


Bridging the Celestial River

by crudescere



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Time Skips, idk how to tag this but it's really just jjp being in love and oblivious to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crudescere/pseuds/crudescere
Summary: After two years that Jaebeom has left GOT7 and Jinyoung became the leader, they bridge the gap between them, learned more about each other, and discovered what it means to look at the same horizon but not see the same dreams.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 45
Kudos: 178





	Bridging the Celestial River

**Author's Note:**

> to start it off, i don't wish for Jaebeom to leave GOT7. in any form or in any way. and this isn't a shade to jype. just so we're all clear on that.  
> i just really wanted to write this idea for a long time now and found inspiration while i came across the folktale of The Weaver Girl and The Cowherd, though this is super loosely based and i made my own stuff along the way.

Jinyoung sighs, clutching the warm mug of tea tighter in his hands, and slumps deeper into the cushions of the couch. Outside, the sky is dark and unforgiving as it roars and flashes violently, sparks reflecting against the windows of his apartment, and Jinyoung thinks the rain will only get heavier. 

He can smell the storm even as he sits safe and far away from the catastrophe outside, can feel the atmosphere growing cold and damp, a sense of wetness the heater, no matter how much he cranks it up, can’t counter. 

Jinyoung feels a hollow in his chest and he doesn’t even know why. All he knows is that his tea is rapidly succumbing to the coldness and that the script laying on his lap has been left unturned for the past hour.

The movie he has been casted in this time is different from anything he has done before. The character is perfect for him, as if the scriptwriters and producers and everyone involved made a study of Jinyoung, dissected him and picked apart his insides – how his mind spins and tinks, how he moves and carries himself, how he wears a mask to shield himself from the people who think they know him, _really_ know him. 

Jinyoung knows that it’s complete coincidence that he will play a role that screams him in every aspect, and feels intimidated about it. It is scary, Jinyoung admits, to see himself on paper like that, and soon enough, on the screen too.

No one will suspect that Jinyoung’s character is an echo of the true Jinyoung – the Jinyoung in private, the one he hides deep within himself that even his closest friends can’t access sometimes. No one will know that it wouldn’t be just another role in another drama. 

Jinyoung has mastered putting an act to perfection. He is an actor after all, and an idol above anything else. In his line of profession, being transparent is a weakness, perhaps the most dangerous weakness there is. And as a by-product of relinquishing that, in his struggle to reach his dreams – he’s also perfected being a liar, and that scares him too. 

Jinyoung will be his true self, will lay it bare for everyone to see, but no one will have a clue. No one will _see_.

As the rain continues its brutal downpour, Jinyoung thinks he’s getting cold too.

✶

That night, Jinyoung falls asleep on his couch, mug and script on the floor. The crashing of the heavens outside is amplified even in his slumber and resonates within him as he dreams of running barefoot under the torrent, soaked to his bones, and chasing an epiphany with broad shoulders and sharp eyes. 

Jinyoung, in the dream, is drenched from head to toe but he has never felt warmer.

✶

Jinyoung enters the dance studio and immediately sees Jackson pinning Bambam on the floor while the rest surround them, whooping and cheering as their second youngest chokes for air. 

His chest tightens and warmth oozes out, bringing a tiny smile to his face. Even after the years, even after all that has happened, GOT7 is still his home.

“H-h..yung!” Bambam wheezes and elbows Jackson on the side, squirming with an intensity of an earthworm dropped in salt until he has wriggled free of Jackson’s clutches. He runs to hide behind Jinyoung as if he didn’t con him into buying him lunch last week, making faces over Jinyoung’s shoulder to annoy Jackson further. 

Jinyoung swallows down the sudden rush of emotion. Nothing has changed. 

“Park gae,” Jackson whines, “Please step aside and let me kill the brat.”

Jinyoung schools his face into diplomacy and steels his voice, makes sure that no trace of sappiness is heard. The guys don’t need to know he’s feeling wholeheartedly grateful for their existence at eight in the morning. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling this way right now when he’s succeeded taking ahold of himself just fine for the last two years. 

He has no time to dwell on the past. Not now most of all. 

Maybe it’s the new role he has to play. Maybe it makes him look deep inside him and revisit his innermost thoughts. 

The key to his chest lays at his feet, but he doesn’t have time for that, doesn’t have the need to open barely healed wounds and make himself bleed again. 

He has a feud to intercept. 

“What’s going on? Why is Bambam sentenced to death?”

“He went to my house yesterday and stole my shoes!” Jackson makes wide hand gestures to make his point like he always does. 

“I didn’t! I just borrowed it!” Bambam argues, tugging at Jinyoung’s shirt. “I was going to return it. In fact, it’s in my bag right now.”

“You didn’t ask me before taking it and if I hadn’t noticed this morning that my most expensive pair is missing, I wouldn’t have known!”

“Well, it would’ve been your fault if that happened. You’re accountable for the stuff you own, hyung.”

Jackson goes slack jawed and turns to Jinyoung for reason. “That’s stealing! It’s stealing, right? Jinyoungie?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, his chest growing full with fondness his face struggles not to show.

Jinyoung is the leader now. He needs to take this seriously. He needs to lead. 

He sighs. “It _is_ stealing if you don’t ask for permission first, Bam.”

Jackson hoots in victory but Jinyoung shots him down as well. “And you, Jackson, you didn’t have to resort to killing Bambam, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is. It’s not as if it’s the first time he did something like this.”

“I know,” Jackson pouts, “But they’re very expensive shoes.”

Jinyoung, finally, cracks a smile and pats Jackson’s shoulder. He tugs Bambam closer too. “Now, what do you do?”

Bambam chews his lip and tentatively takes Jackson’s hand in his. “Hyung, I’m sorry I stole your shoes.”

Jackson nods. “And I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

The two GOT7 members turn to look at Jinyoung, both pairs of eyes seeking approval from him. But Jinyoung isn’t easy. 

“Hug it out.”

Jackson and Bambam make a face at him but surrender. They hug each other tightly, Bambam’s face in the crook of Jackson’s neck, murmuring apologies and promises not to be a thief again, and Jackson’s hand stealthily creeping to ruffle Bambam’s hair, far from the murderer he was minutes ago. 

Satisfied with the outcome, Jinyoung nods and claps his hand for attention and orders everyone to start practicing. 

It’s going to be a long day. 

They’re having a comeback. Finally, after two years – two years of individual projects to keep them all afloat in the industry that keeps taking from them, two years of surviving on their own as they struggled to find stable footing after they lost a limb. 

After two whole years, they’re going to face everyone again. As a reformed and stronger group. 

Finally. 

A brand new GOT7.

It doesn’t matter that the number attached to their name is one count higher than them now.

They won’t, _can’t,_ waste time thinking about losses. GOT7 isn’t about the number of people that makes the group anyways.

He’ll be enough to cover the gaps, he swears. 

✶

There had been a time when Jinyoung was not the one diffusing arguments and instigating peace. A time when it was him pinned to the floor of an empty dance studio, screaming and yelling for blood. 

“I can’t fucking stand you!”

The solid weight above him hisses and Jinyoung turns his head to the side just in time to avoid the pummeling of an angry fist. 

“Get off me!” Jinyoung hisses back, just as violently as his attacker did, and pushes with all his might.

Jinyoung manages to throw him off, manages to scramble to his feet. He sees blazing fury then, raging hotly and violently, and Jinyoung thinks it’s a declaration of war. 

But he prides himself in being mature despite being so young. He’s going to retaliate but in his own way. 

His tone is biting in its sharpness as he says, “Look, we’re going to debut together and I won’t let you ruin it. I worked really hard for this chance and I won’t allow you to throw my hard work down the drain just because you think you’re better than me. ”

“What the hell are you—”

Jinyoung cuts him off, “No. I’ll prove to you, I’ll show you, that _I’m_ better than _you_. I will stand on stage and make you see just how I’m the better one. I’ll shine and make you invisible, jerk.”

Jinyoung turns on his heel and leaves him seething, face red and hot and about to burst. 

Jinyoung had not always been the leader. 

There had been a time when he was the one being led around. 

✶

But there is also a time when he wasn’t both leader and follower. A time when he was stuck in between, on the same level as him, sharing the same insecurities and running on the same page.

That time when he had been sure even their hearts were beating at the same pace, towards the same direction – that time, Jinyoung finds, is the worst of it all. 

His crushed hopes and battered dreams in the aftermath are more than enough to slap Jinyoung to see reality, _their_ reality. Something that can’t be changed no matter how desperately he fights against fate. 

It’s the worst because Jinyoung, innocent and wide eyed at fifteen, had a taste of victory that is never going to happen again. 

So time, in all its abstractness, slips through his fingers as he helplessly tries to gather their shared history in his palms, packs it tightly in a ball, something small and compact like a wet firecracker that failed to burst and paint the sky, and it burns the same too, hot and sizzling, fighting to be diffused – and stores it in a chest deep, so deep in the darkness of his core, locks it and throws the key away.

He wants to forget. 

But the sparks continue to grow, scorching and sharp and abstract even as time passes by. 

He wants to forget. 

He’s afraid he can’t. 

✶

There’s an old story about a weaver of the heavens and a cowherd that Jinyoung vaguely remembers hearing from his mother. 

He remembers Jiknyeo who spun shiny, delicate silk threads across the galaxy, daughter of the heavenly king. She fell in love with Gyeonwoo at first sight while he was herding cows beyond stars and constellations. 

She asked her father to let her marry Gyeonwoo, and the heavenly king, who loved her daughter very much, agreed and allowed the union of hearts. 

But in the height of their love, Jiknyeo ceased weaving and Gyeonwoo neglected the cows. The heavenly king was engulfed with rage and he separated the two, cursing to have the entire Milky Way between them, putting the vast distance with no means of getting together again. 

Jiknyeo had fallen into mad despair and begged her father for forgiveness. The heavenly king, moved by her daughter’s tears, allowed them to meet. But only for a single day during the year.

But without any means to cross the vast galaxy, Jiknyeo continued to weep the distance between her and Gyeonwoo. And in her anguish, her heart wrenching sobs and crystal tears, the magpies of the universe took pity and flew down to make her a promise. 

On every seventh day of the seventh month of the year, the magpies will fly and make a bridge for the two lovers to meet.

One in three hundred and sixty five. During Chilseok.

One day is all they have to make up for the loneliness and yearning they endured for the year.

And it is said that when it rains during Chilseok, the magpies can’t come and Jiknyeo and Gyeonwoo would have to wait for another year to see each other again. 

Jinyoung had thought that Jiknyeo and Gyeonwoo were stupid for allowing themselves to lose focus that caused them to be distracted from doing their jobs, angering the heavenly king. 

If only they hadn’t let themselves be consumed by passion, if only they had controlled and reeled themselves back, then they wouldn’t have been separated so brutally.

Their love had been their downfall. 

So Jinyoung told himself, then, that loving someone as Jiknyeo did Gyeonwoo, all consuming and left for nothing else, is dangerous. One becomes blinded by the intensity and forgets everything else.

Reckless. Deathly. 

So Jinyoung had become careful. With himself and with people. 

He doesn’t want to be Jiknyeo.

(The first time he met Jaebeom, Jinyoung almost heard cowbells and smelled sweet grass.)

✶

It’s been two years, seven months and a day since he last heard his name, not that Jinyoung is counting. It’s just really remarkable, that moment when Jaebeom broke the news to him. 

Jinyoung thinks, back then, a part of him broke as well, cracking like hot glass submerged in ice cold water. He thinks something inside him yielded and gave way to these splinters jabbing his lungs everytime his thoughts wander down memory lane. 

It’s the only explanation why sometimes, when it gets quiet and he gets somber, his chest aches as if being prodded by a sharp knife. It must be the splinters. 

Like it is right now. 

It’s been two years, seven months and a day since Jaebeom’s name has been uttered in his vicinity, and he still takes sharp, ragged breaths because it. stabs. like. knife. 

“He’s coming back,” Youngjae says with glee, and Jinyoung doesn’t get how or why. “Jaebeom hyung is coming back.”

Jackson looks worried as he glances towards him. Jinyoung doesn’t know what the look is for; he’s trying to hold himself together as best as he can. “Did he tell you this, Youngjae?”

“No,” Youngjae grins like evil, “I saw it on twitter. There’s lots of fuss at the airport in Japan. Lots of pictures.”

At that Yugyeom and Bambam flip their phones out, scrolling at the screens in record breaking pace, thumbs moving like crazy. 

“Holy shit!” Yugyeom curses and Jinyoung winces. He wants to scold Yugyeom for the profanity but he isn’t sure if he still has the rights to. Yugyeom isn’t an innocent child anymore. He’s grown into this young man that Jinyoung is incredibly proud of. He’s old enough to curse, but _still._ “He really is coming back. And from the timestamp of these tweets, I say he’ll be on Korean soil within the next hour!”

“Should we see him?” Bambam enthusiastically asks. “We should, right? We should pick him up at the airport! Surprise him with all of us there!”

Jinyoung swallows painfully. He doesn’t want to go to the airport. He doesn’t want to pick him up. He doesn’t even want to see his face. 

Jinyoung is scared of what will happen if they see each other. 

“Bam, we’re on a tight schedule. We still need to learn the choreography for the comeback. Then we’ll have to deal with recording for the b-sides. Then photo shoots. We don’t have time to go to the airport.”

Jinyoung hopes he didn’t sound pathetic, that he managed to keep the begging out of his voice. 

“But it’s Jaebeom hyung!”

Jinyoung clenches his fists. He’s the leader now. 

“We need to focus on GOT7’s comeback,” he says. Then, “He isn’t GOT7 now. He hasn’t been for a long time.”

Silence covers them like a blanket that is too thick, too rough. It chokes everyone’s breath and prickles everyone’s skin, but it had to be said. Jinyoung can’t have Jaebeom ruining this. 

No, Jinyoung refuses to let Jaebeom ruin the group again. 

He’s the leader now. 

When he looks at Bambam’s eyes, he sees something fracture in half and he almost surges to envelope the younger in his arms. Almost. 

“Hyung,” Bambam says desperately. 

He shakes his head. 

“Jinyoung is right,” Mark says. His deep voice calm and steady despite the shaky grounds they’re treading. 

They haven’t discussed the issue as a group, and maybe that’s why they’re seeing different realities. But Jinyoung knows _his_ version is the correct one. 

Jaebeom left the group first, then he left _them._

That is all there is to it. Bambam and the rest should realize it now, should _have_ realized it before. 

Two years, seven months and a day. 

It’s such a long time to still keep holding on. 

And in the wake of what transpired, Jackson offers to treat them all to a round of fried chicken and pizza; Mark volunteers to buy ice cream from the convenience store next to them. The two are reliable people, and Jinyoung is beyond grateful for their efforts to salvage the pieces of the maknaeline’s remaining hope. 

Jinyoung catches their eyes and both of them give him a sad smile. Smiles that heavily spoke of mourning. Not for them, but for him. 

Jinyoung startles. He’s trying to keep himself together. He’s trying his best to be a leader, to put the group before anything else. First and foremost. 

He doesn’t know what Mark and Jackson see. 

He’s trying his best. 

✶

“What do you think?” Jaebeom asks after pausing the track. He’s slouching so much, almost slipping out of the swivel chair he’s on, slowly rotating left and right, head thrown carelessly backwards in an angle that makes Jinyoung wince. 

Jaebeom will complain of neck pain and will demand Jinyoung for a massage, but that will be for later. Right now, though, right now he has his eyes closed and if it weren’t that he’s Jinyoung’s best friend and therefore knows his every trick, Jinyoung will think Jaebeom is asleep. 

Jinyoung hums, uncrosses his ankles and leans back on the couch. He’s been in the studio for hours already and it’s his day off. _Their_ day off. 

Jaebeom had a sudden musical vision while they were playing Mario Kart and dragged Jinyoung along with him to the studio. 

That was three hours ago. 

Now, Jaebeom has finished writing the song, melodies in his head finding musical form, materializing from the wilderness of Jaebeom’s mind and blasting off the studio’s high end sound system. 

“So?” Jaebeom follows up. “What do you think?”

Jinyoung thinks it’s magic. 

“I think it’s nice,” he says instead. “Very romantic. Though I don’t get how you came up with that while playing Mario.”

Jaebeom opens his eyes and stares directly at Jinyoung. A shadow in his eyes is telling Jinyoung _something_ but Jinyoung can’t figure it out, which is weird. He’s always been able to read Jaebeom. 

Well, not always, but after they learned about each other and realized they wanted the same things, wanted the same goals, and that they are the same, as if cut from the same rock, that their edges can be perfectly fitted, bumps slotting snugly against crevices – after they saw what hid behind fierce ambitions, they became tight friends. Best friends even, attached to the hip, one not being far from where the other is. In sync.

And it’s a bit crazy how they just jumped from one point to another, too quick, too fast for Jinyoung that sometimes when he thinks back to a year ago, he can’t believe that the Jaebeom back then is the Jaebeom now.

But that was then and this is now, and not knowing what Jaebeom’s sharp stare means _now_ somewhat prickles his skin. Jinyoung shifts in his seat. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jaebeom sits straighter and starts fiddling with the computer again. 

“You’re being weird.” Jinyoung says casually. “Say what you want to say. Don’t be weird, hyung.”

“Do you think this is enough to keep us on the spotlight this time?”

Jinyoung’s chest constricts and he takes a sharp intake of breath. It still hurts, still rubs their open wounds with coarse salt. They’ve exchanged tears when JJ Project was put aside, held each other’s hand throughout heaves and broken dreams when it was announced that they’ll be trainees again. 

Jinyoung is speechless. “Jae…”

The pained smile Jaebeom gives him makes Jinyoung scramble to his feet.

“I’ll be better next time, I promise,” Jaebeom says with determination, “I’ll be a better idol next time we get a chance. I will improve, I promise. And even if I fail at that, I won’t bring you down with me next time.”

“It’s not your fault. You know it’s not our fault. The timing was just wrong.”

Jaebeom stays quiet, fingers clicking on the mouse.

Then, “Will you still sing with me next time we get the chance? Do you want to?”

Jinyoung walks over to Jaebeom and kneels so that they are eye to eye. Jinyoung needs Jaebeom to understand his next words.

“Of course, I will sing with you. I’ll always want to be with you, wherever, whatever stage we stand on.”

Jaebeom cracks a smile and this, _this_ , Jinyoung can read. 

Jinyoung sees bright stage lights, hears the deafening crowd chanting their names, feels the exhilaration of performing. 

In Jaebeom’s eyes, he dreams of his future. 

Jinyoung feels Jaebeom’s hand clasping his. And he knows that JJ Project or not, he and Jaebeom will be on the same stage as they reach for the stars. 

He reads forever written over Jaebeom’s face. 

✶

GOT7 debuts after two years. 

Jaebeom leaves after five. 

✶

Jinyoung arrives home beyond exhausted. He just finished an entire day of shooting under the blazing sun. His skin still feels hot and itchy, almost burnt from forgetting to reapply sunscreen. 

The clock blinks three twenty in bright red color. He’ll have to get up at five for the magazine shoot featuring GOT7. 

Jinyoung forgoes food, like he did at lunch and at dinner too, but he isn’t hungry. He doesn’t think he can manage any other activity beside dragging himself to bed. He’s too beat.

He falls asleep on the couch. 

✶

Jiknyeo didn’t mean to offend his father. She just wanted to spend as much time as she can with Gyeonwoo. 

She’d been lonely for so long that even just the idea of seeing the cowherd was enough to make her fingers stop from spinning the wheel, silvery threads suspended and forgotten until the moment she went back from a whole day spent in Gyeonwoo’s embrace. 

One day, the heavenly king casted a sorrowful, defeated look at his daughter and Jiknyeo’s fingers slipped. 

She wonders if being in love with someone meant hurting others. 

✶

Jinyoung wonders what being in love feels like. 

The character he’s playing is passionate and will do anything and everything for him and his girl to be together. Will fight for him and her to end up in the altar despite all the obstacles they have to tumble over. 

Jinyoung is similar to Hyunjae, except that Hyunjae knows love, and is willing to make the sacrifice. 

Jinyoung thinks he might have known it once, but he’s not sure. 

All he knows is that someone really important to him, someone he cared about so much, _so much_ more than himself, left him open and gaping, abandoning him on the stage of their dreams to sing alone, without the harmony that once grounded him, and he is lost and floating amidst the sea of people wanting to tear him apart.

Jinyoung wonders if loving means being hurt in the end. 

✶

The thing is, the universe has a funny way of making Jinyoung remember all that is in the past, keeps him from completely moving on, leaves his heart beating masochistically in sync with the painful memories despite the many efforts he’s put to make it freeze. 

Jinyoung is convinced that he must have done something really unforgivable in his past life to suffer fate’s cruel jokes. 

The elevator dings and its doors open to reveal the last person he wanted, _needed_ , to see. He almost ran back towards the studio and hid in the darkest corner of the recording booth, but his body is too stunned to take any action. Even his blood feels cold in his veins and he can’t hear the thumping of a pulse. 

He might as well be dead, and the image before him might as well be the grim reaper, finally coming for the last threads of his soul. 

“Jinyoung.”

It’s shaky, almost breathless, like how Jinyoung feels and he bitterly wonders how after years apart, they’re still in sync.

Jinyoung tries to keep his face void of emotions, eyes vacant and empty as if he’s acting a role, putting on a character that is not vulnerable to ex-best friends. He’s mastered the art of performing anyways. He’ll be able to survive the elevator ride. It’s just five floors. 

He steps in the metal box and lets the doors close, separating them from whatever’s happening outside. 

In the bubble, it’s just Jinyoung and his will to not throw a fist against Jaebeom’s stupid face. 

But he should’ve known that Jaebeom isn’t going to make it easy. “Jinyoung.”

He takes a slow and deep inhale, calming himself. Just four floors left. “Jaebeom,” he says in acknowledgment, intentionally leaving out any honorifics because he _can’t_ call him hyung. Not now, not ever again. 

“Jinyoung, please.”

Three floors. “I’m not doing this, Jaebeom. I’m not going to have a conversation with you.”

“Look at me, please. We need to talk, Jinyoungie.”

Jinyoung flinches at the name. It brings him back to the past and he hates Jaebeom some more for doing this. “You don’t have the right to call me that. Not anymore.”

Two floors. 

“Please, it’s been so long. I miss you, Jinyoung.”

The elevator pings again and the door opens just in time before he reaches his limit. He hurries to step out and leave everything behind.

Jaebeom, surprisingly, stops him by taking his wrist and Jinyoung all but curled in on himself, violently tugging his limb back, recoiling as if Jaebeom’s touch is poison to him. 

“Don’t,” he hisses with all the venom he can muster, “Don't you dare say you missed me. You’re the one who left. I don’t even know what you’re doing here in the company but you don’t have any rights to say that. You _left._ ”

Jaebeom’s face crumples with pain, eyes reflecting so much despair that the shards in Jinyoung’s lungs sharpen, poking him from the inside, making him bleed so he can’t breathe. 

Jinyoung runs outside like a scared animal, scampering away from an aggressive predator, trying to keep himself alive even for just another day. 

Nevermind that Jaebeom’s face screams like he’s the one caught in a trap. 

After all this time, they’re still in sync. 

✶

Jaebeom has been acting strange for the entire day. Scratch that, he’s been acting strange for the entire week. 

Jinyoung thought it’s because he’s still sulking over the mysterious disappearance of his fried chicken which he left before talking to their manager. It had been obvious to Jinyoung that Bambam and Yugyeom, perhaps Jackson too, were the culprits. Their shifty eyes and fidgeting hands were more than enough give away for the crime. 

Jaebeom didn’t say anything, though, and everyone thought the thievery was to be left alone unbroached and unspoken. That their leader must be expressing spare mercy for them. 

Jinyoung knows something happened. But Jaebeom didn’t go to him, didn’t tell him anything so he brushed it off as well. 

Now, however, Jaebeom is acting unusual, almost flighty, as if one surprise jab and he will scamper off. His best friend looks guilty and afraid, but Jinyoung has no clue why.

“Jaebeom hyung,” he says when everyone left the studio and only they remained to make sure the room was clean, all equipment shut down and in their proper places. 

Jaebeom hums as he throws an empty bottle of water to the bin. “Yes?”

Jinyoung eyes him. Jaebeom looks tired, dark bruises under his usually sharp eyes and a hollowness to his cheeks that shouldn’t have been there. Not on Jaebeom, always-hungry, one-bite Jaebeom. Jinyoung worries. His best friend looks tired. 

“Do you have something to tell me?”

Jaebeom stills at his question and, yeah, Jinyoung knows something’s up. 

“I can see through you, hyung. Tell me.”

Jaebeom looks at him beseechingly and for what, Jinyoung has no idea. Jinyoung sits on the couch at the far end of the room and pats the space beside him, beckoning Jaebeom to come.

Jaebeom hesitates, then sighs. And something shifts. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Jinyoungie.”

“Then why are you being so weird? I can tell. You didn’t scold Bam when he was late to practice. You let Mark and Youngjae play computer games instead of finishing their parts on the recording. Heck you let Yugyeom steal your food. You’d die protecting your food, hyung. There’s definitely something wrong.”

Jaebeom chuckles in answer, ruffles Jinyoung’s hair before sliding an arm behind and settling on Jinyoung’s shoulder. 

Jinyoung presses closer, snuggling into Jaebeom’s warmth. They’re sweaty and gross after an entire afternoon of choreography, but Jinyoung doesn’t mind. They’ve always been sweaty and gross. 

“Tell me about your dream,” Jaebeom says.

That got Jinyoung in a frown. Jaebeom’s mind has always been filled with colorful ideas. Even when they were fifteen and just coasting through trainee life; even when they were eighteen and fighting; and even when they were on the cusp of being twenty and became inseparable – Jaebeom has always had his mind full of lyrics and melodies and ideas so abstract, Jinyoung finds it hard sometimes to understand. 

He’s getting better with the years though. 

He’s _gotten_ better through the years, yet they’re here now, twenty five and twenty four, both full fledged adults, and Jinyoung still has difficulties interpreting Jaebeom’s musings.

“You know I don’t usually have dreams, hyung. My sleep is always soundless,” he peers up to see Jaebeom’s thinking face. 

“Is this what you’ve dreamed of, Jinyoung?”

“You really have to give me more context here, hyung. I don’t have a single clue what you’re talking about. What dream?”

Jaebeom continues to stare at the empty room, eyes a bit glazed now. “This. Being in GOT7. Being Jinyoung the idol. Actor Park. Is this what you’ve dreamed of?”

Jinyoung draws back, confused, and a little bit scared. Jaebeom is being awfully unusual, it’s uncanny. It’s becoming eerie.

Jinyoung rushes to say. “Of course, hyung! Isn’t this what we wanted, why we worked so hard? GOT7 is everything I ever wanted. Actually, it’s better than what I imagined because we have Mark hyung and Jackson and Youngjae and Bammie and Gyeom.”

Jaebeom is still looking faraway. Jinyoung takes his hands.

“Isn’t this what you wanted too, hyung? Our fanbase is so much bigger, our albums are always topping the charts, and we’re just getting more and more successful! Being in a group gives us more stability than what we had as a duo. We’re perfect right now.” 

Jinyoung seeks Jaebeom out, pulling him back from whatever trance he’s settled in. “Isn’t this _our_ dream? For us to be loved by everyone? To succeed in this game?”

Jaebeom finally looks at him. Jaebeom smiles, “I just want to sing, Jinyoungie. I think I’ve told you that before. I just want to sing.”

“And isn’t that what we’re doing? We’re going to release a new album soon, hyung, and you’re going to be amazing in it. I just know.” Jinyoung says with utmost conviction because he believes it. Jaebeom’s voice has always been special. 

_Jaebeom_ has always been special. Just like that.

Jaebeom is still smiling, but his eyes aren’t upturned. No twinkle, no mirth. 

Jaebeom isn’t really smiling.

Jiyoung starts breathing stale air.

Jaebeom sighs and something shifts again. “Yeah, you’re right, Jinyoungie. I like singing with you.”

They finish arranging the room, making sure nothing is amiss. The cleaning staff always complains that whatever room GOT7 uses turns into a calamity zone, and they’ve gotten reprimanded for it countless times already. As a result, Jinyoung and Jaebeom developed a habit of staying back to return upturned chairs and tables to their original positions.

Even as they leave the building, walking towards the lamplit darkness of the streets leading to their dorm, Jinyoung can’t shake what happened back inside. But looking at Jaebeom’s profile bathed in the soft yellow glow of the streetlights, Jinyoung doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. Everything is in place.

Jaebeom still looks like his best friend.

Maybe Jaebeom is just being introspective as usual. Maybe Jaebeom is just pressured with the upcoming comeback. Maybe he is just upset his song got rejected as the title track again.

It happens. They’re idols. They have an image to portray. The company relies on them to swoon and woo the public. They need songs that will do just that.

Sometimes, they have to put themselves second to the persona their job requires.

Sometimes, they need to forget _they_ existed for GOT7 to shine.

Jinyoung has made peace with it. 

Jinyoung knows Jaebeom has too.

✶

_“I want to write songs, Jinyoung. Something that I will share to the world. Something genuine, something that is me.”_

_“You can do that, hyung.”_

_“I want to write songs for you too. I want to make you songs and sing them to you.”_

_“Of course, you can do that too, hyung.”_

_“Can I? Can I, really?”_

Jinyoung wakes up sweating and panting. He hasn’t dreamt in a long time.

✶

Jinyoung delivers the line with perfection – with the exact amount of anguish and with the exact amount of tears shed. He has Hyunjae’s character down, has mastered the way he thinks, the way he feels. He is Hyunjae afterall, and even more so with this particular scene where his love interest is hit by a speeding truck after a brutal fight with him.

Jinyoung is definitely Hyunjae at that moment. Not the bone crunching accident, no, but he had felt the same thing Hyunjae did as he stood in front of his girlfriend’s hospital bed while she is kept alive by tubes and machines. 

Jinyoung had felt, _feels_ , the same bitterness, the same despair at how things had ended up.

It’s funny because how can he be Hyunjae? No one had been hit by a truck. There hadn’t been a violent fight. Most importantly, Jaebeom and he were never involved in _that_ way.

Yet, Jinyoung feels as Hyunjae does.

It’s funny. And crazy too.

The director yells cut and compliments him for the superb acting. Jinyoung smiles. He has worked half his life to learn how to be flawless in his roles, how to shed his own skin and put on GOT7’s Jinyoung’s. 

He is an empty slate when it comes to work. He becomes who the people need him to be.

Jinyoung is the perfect idol. That’s how he got to where he is now. The consummate professional.

And it’s even easier when Hyunjae is so similar to him. 

He’s gotten past the scary part. From the first shooting session, Jinyoung’s fears came true right off the bat. No one really figured out that he was only acting the bare minimum, faking almost nothing because Hyunjae is him fundamentally. They all thought Jinyoung was playing for the cameras when he wasn't. 

And when he realized this, his fears weren’t fears anymore. He went along with it. No one needed to know anyways – that Hyunjae’s weaknesses are his; that Hyunjae’s shortcomings are his; that Hyunjae’s tears are his. No one needs to know.

All they will get is Jinyoung of GOT7. That’s what his job is. 

This is what he’s worked so hard for. This is what he’s sacrificed a lot for.

No one needs to know who Park Jinyoung is as long as GOT7’s Jinyoung is loved by everyone.

✶

Jinyoung arrives at his apartment just before the drizzle of the dusk turns into a full on storm wreaking havoc across Seoul. He is relieved that the taping got finished earlier than usual. He glances at the clock. He still has hours to spare before midnight.

What a treat.

Jinyoung checks his phone and instantly, he’s being flooded with notifications, eyes swimming at the brightness of his screen and at the flood of letters and words and sentences.

Three messages from Youngjae. Two from Bambam. Five from Yugyeom. Three from Mark. Eight messages and five missed calls from Jackson.

Jinyoung panics for a second but finds, upon listening to one of Jackson’s voicemails, that the group conspired to nag at him to eat before he crashes for the night. And opening the messages one by one, they were all indeed reminders for him to take care of himself better.

Jinyoung slumps on the couch, momentarily speechless. They haven’t seen him for a week because of his drama filming, and he supposes that missing him was bound to happen. They just reunited after two years of individual works after all. Jinyoung’s sure the members are feeling exceptionally clingy. The hiatus impacted all of them profoundly even if it isn’t blatantly shown.

They cared for each other before, but now, it’s on a different scale.

He feels his eyes burning but his phone has locked itself already, screen black and lifeless. 

His chest feels heavy but he has chucked his coat even before he sits on the couch. 

The members miss him.

_I miss you, Jinyoung._

His eyes are wet but his apartment is safe from the chaos flooding the streets of Seoul.

✶

When it rains, the magpies can’t come to build a bridge.

When it rains, Jiknyeo continues longing for Gyeonwoo.

When it rains, the Milky Way looks infinite.

✶

Yugyeom tells him of a graduation party and Jinyoung is immensely proud of him. 

Yugyeom made use of their hiatus and worked hard in university, earning him recognitions left and right. Jinyoung can’t be any more prouder than he is. He wants to go up on stage alongside their maknae but he knows it’s silly. He’ll just have to content himself with the party afterwards. 

Jinyoung is already thinking of a gift suitable to an outstanding student, tuning out the over enthused screeching from Bambam and the excited ideas coming from Youngjae, when Jackson tugs him to a corner, far enough to be out of hearing range from the maknaes. Mark stands across the room, casting half worried glances towards him and Jackson, and fond smiles towards the youngest members. 

“What is it?” 

Jackson makes a face, slaps himself to focus and says in one swoosh, “Jaebeom’s coming.”

Jinyoung is thankful Jackson is still holding him by the arm because _what._

“Yugyeom didn’t say it in case you’ll say no to his invitation but Mark and I think it’s unfair for you not to know. But, yeah, he’s coming. Yugyeom invited him and he agreed.”

Jinyoung feels the ground sway and he holds Jackson’s hand to balance himself. 

“He’s coming?”

Jackson nods. 

Jinyoung thinks it’s stupid that he’s so affected. It’s been more than two years. He’ll deal. 

The elevator incident was just two weeks ago. 

He wasn’t able to deal. 

But he’ll be damned if he lets Jaebeom win. 

“Okay,” he puts on an act. 

Jackson’s eyes widen. “Okay?”

Jinyoung nods, convincing the both of them. “Yugyeom wants him there,” he shrugs, “It’s not like I can stop him from coming. I’m more offended that Yugyeom kept it from me. It’s not my business.”

“N-not your business?” 

Jackson is confused. Jinyoung hates lying but he’s got to save himself somehow. 

“Yes, none of my business. He’s not in GOT7, he’s not even in the company. I have nothing to do with him.”

Jackson’s grip on him tightens. “But he’s your best friend!”

Jinyoung smiles and, really, he almost believes himself when he says, “Not anymore. He hasn’t been a friend for a long time. He means nothing to me now.”

Jackson’s looking at him now like he doesn’t know Jinyoung. Jinyoung can’t blame him. He doesn’t know himself sometimes too. 

“Honestly, I don’t understand why you’re being so careful with me about him.”

“It’s because, Jinyoung, whatever he does cuts you twice as deep.”

Jinyoung’s blood stops in his veins. Carefully, he asks, shaking the chill that creeps in his vessels, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that,” Jackson picks his words cautiously, “We were all hurt when he left. I can't even think back to that time without crying. But, Jinyoungie, I understood. I understand why he did that.”

A bitter taste, like bile, is in Jinyoung’s mouth. He didn’t, doesn’t, understand it at all. 

“Jaebeom hyung, he’s amazing but he isn’t cut out for this life. The idol life. He tried, I could see it and I’m sure everyone did too. He really tried to fit in this mould that we all fit into easily, but he can’t.”

“That just means he didn’t try hard enough.”

Jackson makes a sad face, so sad Jinyoung feels a pang resonate within him. “No, Jinyoung. Hyung tried very hard and you know that. It’s impossible that you don’t. As I said, whatever he does cuts you twice as deep. And that’s why when he left, it hurt you the most. And I think you understand his reasons too, deep inside, and that’s why you can’t forgive him.”

Jinyoung stills in horror even as Jackson hugs him. He catches Mark’s eyes and they reflect Jackson’s words. 

Jinyoung clenches his fists. _No_ , he doesn’t understand. Not at all. It’s not even acting anymore. He doesn’t get anything _at all_. 

“Whatever,” he says, “It’s all in the past.”

✶

A vision, a memory. Jinyoung buries himself deep in the covers to shake it away, seeking refuge in the dark, blocking his ears aggressively from the sounds, shutting his eyes close, clenching his mouth tight, hiding from the phantom before it takes ahold of his limbs again and renders him useless.

But he can’t escape. The scene plays out at the back of his eyelids, at the forefront of his mind.

He can’t escape.

Jaebeom stands in front of him, a somber expression on his face. Jinyoung staggers back and leans on the wall for support, disbelieving what he heard. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not, Jinyoung.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! Is this a prank, hyung? I get it, this is a prank. You’ve got me,” he laughs hysterically, wrapping his arms around himself, “Where’s the camera? You’ve succeeded. The staff can come out now!”

“There are no cameras, Jinyoung. I’m serious.”

A flurry of emotions wrack through him before he settles on rage, the taste of betrayal sharp in his tongue, stinging his taste buds and making swallowing impossibly painful.

“How could you do this?” Jinyoung rasps, fists shaking with barely controlled anger, “How can you leave the group?” _How can you leave me?_ “You can’t just do that!”

“I tried, Jinyoung, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be what the people want me to be.”

Something snaps violently. “What people want you to be? You’re using that as an excuse?”

Jaebeom looks guilty but there is fire behind his irises that Jinyoung can’t understand. Jaebeom believes his decision to be correct, that leaving the group is the right thing to do. For himself, for everyone.

Jinyoung seethes some more.

“Isn’t this what you’ve spent so long working so hard for? For this job?” Jinyoung tries hard to hold his hurt in, voice only the barest hint of shaky, concealing the same fire burning in him. “Isn’t this what you fucking wanted?”

Jaebeom smiles at him and it’s the same melancholic smile from months ago. Chills ran across Jinyoung’s spine. The room is silent, so, so silent.

“I just want to sing, Nyoungie.”

Jinyoung doesn’t fucking get it.

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing all this time? For the past five years? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make me!” Jinyoung’s voice breaks, anger giving way to desperation. He can’t help it. He tries reading Jaebeom but it’s like reading a different language, an entire different set of characters. He wonders when it was that reading Jaebeom had been impossible again. He’s supposed to have gotten better at it with age. 

He doesn't understand. _Damn it._

“Make me understand, hyung.”

“I’m not like you or Jackson or the rest. I can’t keep putting on this face that isn’t me. I can’t push myself aside, I _don’t_ want to.” Jaebeom shakes his head. “I just want to write music and sing songs, Jinyoung. Maybe occasionally dance. But I don’t want to lose myself in the process, and I think that’s what’s happening.”

Jinyoung still can’t comprehend. They have been together for years and he hasn’t seen Jaebeom be anything that he isn’t. What in the world is Jaebeom talking about?

“Then let’s talk to management. I’m sure we can fix this, whatever this is.”

Jaebeom lets out a slow exhale, gathering courage to deliver the final blow. “I already did. I’m leaving.”

Jinyoung slides down, slumps on the floor, folding his legs and hugging his knees, burying his face in them, trying to keep himself from completely losing it.

“You can’t—what will happen to the group? We can’t be GOT7 without you! You’re our leader, for god’s sake!” Jinyoung begs, “You can’t just leave.”

“Management says you’re the leader now. I trust you, Jinyoungie. You’ll lead GOT7 to the top.” A pause, then, “I’m sure they’ll understand once you tell them.”

“You can’t even tell them yourself? Huh? What? You’re running away so you figured another cowardly act is okay?”

He is met without response. Silence.

Jinyoung waits for the clicking of the door, for the footsteps to disappear, for the room to drop in temperature the same way his body is pathetically frozen on the ground before he allows the first drop of salty tears.

Jinyoung quietly sobs and rocks himself in the vicious tranquility of the room.

It’s with a broken voice that he whispers to the void, “You promised to sing with me, hyung. You promised.”

Jinyoung screams into his pillow and punches the fluffy material.

He can’t possibly be losing it now. He’s been doing so well for the past two years. Seeing Jaebeom’s face once won’t undo all of his progress.

It’s all in the past.

History has always been Jinyoung’s most hated subject.

✶

Jinyoung thinks breakup scenes in dramas are unrealistic. They are always amplified and exaggerated and elaborate affairs. They’re hyperboles of an end of a chapter, the breaking of a bond that is far from what really occurs in reality, where people actually have a sense of respect and pride towards themselves. Begging and pleading – that’s where the dramas go wrong.

Jinyoung thinks breaking up with someone is as cold as the snapping of a twig, simple and easy and swift. If it hurts afterwards, it’s because of the broken fragments that get stuck on sensitive skin. After all, Jinyoung’s read in some medical book somewhere that the fingertips are one of the most sensitive body parts, an area of concentrated receptors and tiny nerve endings.

Jinyoung hasn’t experienced being in a relationship with someone, much less a breakup.

Jinyoung wonders why his fingers are bleeding, staining his heart bright and angry red.

✶

Legends and folktales tell of things humanity should pursue. They tell of courage and integrity and passion. They tell of the path one must take to reach their full potential, to seek for the truth in the universe. 

Some of them include failures and tragedies and sacrifices. But they all end up in a lesson, an understanding of what should be. An epiphany that is life changing, a beauty hidden deep beneath sadness and misery.

Jinyoung doesn’t see what’s beautiful in holding on for someone like how Jiknyeo and Gyeonwoo do. He doesn’t see redemption in meeting once a year; he thinks it doesn’t make up for the accumulated sorrow of waiting and waiting and waiting.

It isn’t even one hundred percent certain that they’ll be able to meet. Just one whim of the universe that separates them can bring forth a storm that will discourage the magpies from coming out.

Jinyoung thinks Jiknyeo hurts from endlessly yearning, from repeating the cycle of pining over and over and over – but it isn’t something folktales tell to small children, starry eyed with the promise of a love that endures time and space.

Jinyoung wishes his mother told him a story of letting go instead.

✶

He likes Yugyeom’s crowd, Jinyoung makes the conclusion as he surveys the ruckus going on. A group of boys huddling in a corner stuffing their faces with food; another group playing a game of what seems like chug-the-most-iced-choco; and there’s another group in a circle and taking bets on a dance showdown going on. 

They’re all boys, really – a bunch of college boys pretending to be cool and hip adults. Exactly like Yugyeom. Jinyoung likes Yugyeom’s friends. 

Speaking of the tall brat, he spots Yugyeom spiking the rows of fruit punches alongside Bambam. The rest of the members, Jinyoung gives up looking for. He hears Jackson’s loud cackle somewhere in the room, saw Youngjae’s shoes in the kitchen – that’s good enough. And there’s a video game tournament going on so he knows where Mark is. 

The members seem to like Yugyeom’s friends too and he’s relieved. He’s glad to know that Yugyeom hangs around nice people outside of them, that their youngest used the group’s hiatus to try and fit in with the normal crowd, and he’s done it. 

Jinyoung is relieved to know that when the spotlight gets too much again, too much to scald and burn, when the roaring of the crowd sends one of them packing and running away – _god_ , Jinyoung prays it won’t happen again; won’t let it happen again – at least Yugyeom has these people to rely on. Good people. Normal people.

At the thought of normalcy, Jinyoung feels his gut coil with resentment.

Here, Yugyeom is surrounded by university friends, celebrating a degree and drinking their heads stupid like any other graduate. 

Here, Yugyeom is still a part of GOT7. 

Here, Yugyeom hasn’t left him. 

Jinyoung swallows the acid and turns to the terrace of the villa Yugyeom rented for the fresh night air. 

The noise is lesser here, drowned out by the heavy downpour. The storm clouds haven’t left Seoul since the start of the month, and it’s almost the end now; only less than a week before the start of another season. 

Autumn stands in the corner and waits for its turn silently, making a subtle appearance in the rainy summer sky, warning everyone of more chill to come. That this isn’t the gloomiest the heavens can be. That there will be more downcast days worse than this.

He stares at the far horizon, dark and despairing, a heavy contrast to the loud and bright party inside. Yugyeom and his friends are enjoying the cold night without a care in the world, the depressing backdrop goes easily unnoticed to the foggy minds. 

Jinyoung thinks it’s another world, the place where he stands in the open and where the party continues to play out inside. 

It’s another galaxy, another mass of heavenly bodies.

Jinyoung places his hands on the rails, feeling the coolness of the metal from the rain, droplets wetting his palms and sliding down his wrist. The air smells of crisp leaves and bitter soil; it’s cold and it stings.

“Don’t you feel sorry for them?”

Jinyoung freezes. He knows that voice, knows that timbre, that pitch. All too well, he knows it all too well.

It’s Jaebeom.

He grips the railing tighter, slows his breathing, clears his head. It’s Yugyeom’s party and Jaebeom is a guest. Just like Jinyoung is. He won’t ruin Yugyeom’s celebration. 

Jinyoung bites his tongue to keep himself from saying something. Also to prevent himself from shivering. Not because of the rain – no, the rain is okay, is welcome. The rain helps Jinyoung’s focus. 

Jinyoung shivers because Jaebeom is near and is talking and Jinyoung feels so, so cold.

“Don’t you feel sorry for them?”

The voice sounds closer; Jaebeom _feels_ closer and Jinyoung knows that unlike that time in the elevator, Jinyoung can’t run this time.

“What are you talking about?”

Jinyoung keeps his back to Jaebeom, refuses to turn around to see the face that has been haunting his dreams for nights now. Jinyoung won’t run away but that doesn’t mean he will run towards Jaebeom. He isn’t _that_ self-destructive. So he steadies himself, braces for the inevitable impact. 

“Jiknyeo and Gyeonwoo,” Jaebeom’s answer drifts from beside Jinyoung. Jaebeom, too, is now leaning on the rails, getting drenched from the gust of wind carrying heaven’s tears. “It’s raining. It’s been raining so much, Jinyoung. At this rate, the magpies won’t come out.”

That sends Jinyoung’s mind running a mile a second in an instant. 

Magpies. Rain. The Milky Way. Jaebeom. 

Two years and seven months.

And like the flimsy stem of leaves falling off trees under this storm, Jinyoung feels he’s losing control. He can’t keep up, fears that the ground will give way and swallow him whole. 

His mind is churning too fast, he’s spinning out of his axis, runs off his orbit.

“What do you want?” His voice breaks and he hates himself for not getting over the past. He had tried his best to move on, to become better and stronger, yet he’s here, back to square one, crumbling and coming undone just because his ex-best friend decided to talk about love and loss and stars. _Goddammit_. “Just what do you want from me, Jaebeom?”

“To talk,” Jaebeom implores, “I told you. I missed you, Jinyoung. We need to talk.”

Jinyoung hasn’t properly slept for days. The drama filming simultaneous with the group’s activities keeps him from having any down time. He doesn’t even have time to sit down and eat a full meal, always sipping caffeine and popping food supplements. 

Jinyoung is weary. He’s depleted, empty, sucked out of life, his fire extinguished.

Jinyoung is _tired_.

“Just how cruel can you be?” He says to the horizon, laughing sadly. He thinks something inside him breaks again because not only his chest stings from the thorns that are already planted deep within the tissues, but also, this time, there’s sticky blood dripping. Cold and thick and drowning him from the inside out. 

“Please, Jinyoung, let’s fix this. Let’s fix us.”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “There wouldn’t have been anything to fix if you didn’t leave, Jaebeom. _We_ wouldn’t have been broken if you didn’t abandon us.”

“You know it was for the best.”

It stings even after all this time. Jinyoung frowns, the hollowness in his chest expands, claiming new territories and emptying Jinyoung more and more. “You mean the best for you? You didn’t even talk to me before making the decision! It’s like you didn’t care about the group.”

Jaebeom’s voice is sharper, riled up, when he says, “You know that isn’t true. You know I care about the group as much as you do. I left because it was, _still is_ , the best for everyone. For the group. For me.”

“What about me?” Jinyoung hears himself whisper, the soft notes carried into the vast distance by the gusting wind. He clears his throat, “Did you ever think of me when you made the decision?”

“Of course, I did!” Jaebeom exclaims and his voice is closer now. So close that Jinyoung hears it right next to his ear when Jaebeom speaks again. Raw and earnest, shaky the same way Jinyoung’s breath is. “All I could think about was you, Jinyoung. I held on for so long because of _you_.”

“And what you did—leaving, was that the best for me too?”

Jinyoung feels it will break. The barrier he’s put up around himself over the years, he feels them splintering and crumbling under Jaebeom’s presence. 

He’s always hated being vulnerable. It’s why he acts, why he puts on a face that isn’t his. But Jaebeom always had the ability to tear his every mask off. With Jaebeom, he flounders around, unsure with every step, with every word. He _can’t_ act.

Jinyoung fears he will break. 

“Yes, it was.” 

Air is knocked out of Jinyoung’s lungs and leaves him breathless, face sickeningly pale in the darkness.

“Jinyoung, listen to me,” Jaebeom pleads, “I was losing myself back then. I wasn’t happy. Everytime I wake up, and that is if we had the luxury of sleep to begin with, I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t feel myself. It’s like...it’s like I was nothing, a plain canvas. But everyone out there expected, _demanded_ for GOT7’s Jaebeom—”

Jinyoung flinches from the words. He had felt like that once, too, but he learned how to cope, how to harden himself. He learned how to fill in Jaebeom’s place and put in twice the work, striving for perfection.

“I was suffocating back then, Jinyoung. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t be _me_.” Jaebeom pauses, hesitates. “And seeing you and the rest—seeing you be okay with it, watching you play puppet...I just had to leave.”

Jinyoung whips his head too fast, too aggressive, eyes red from the cold air and unshed tears and growing _anger_. “Me? Me?! You’re blaming me?”

“I’m not!” Jaebeom runs a hand through his hair, a habit Jinyoung knows too well even after the time they had spent apart, and Jinyoung has to clench his fist until the nails are dug into soft skin. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

He’s had enough; Jaebeom’s word puzzles, he won’t be able to fit the pieces together and see the whole picture. Not like this.

Indignant, Jinyoung turns around sharply and fully faces Jaebeom. He isn’t prepared for what he sees in Jaebeom’s expression, though, and he gasps loudly at the face of the man before him. 

He can read it. 

He can read Jaebeom. 

Jinyoung can see defeat in the downturn of Jaebeom’s mouth, the anxiety in the hard muscles of his clenched jaw, the helplessness lining his eyes. 

Jinyoung can see Jaebeom’s anguish as clear as day even in the darkness of the night, can hear the words that won’t come out of his mouth, can feel Jaebeom spiralling down into nothingness as he struggles to grasp for _anything_ to say. 

Jinyoung can read Jaebeom and it _blows_. After months of ambiguity and two full years apart, Jinyoung can finally read Jaebeom again. It frightens and exhilarates Jinyoung at the same time.

In the far distance, lightning crashes and catches something, perhaps a tree, on fire. But here, out in the open of Yugyeom’s party, something crackles and fizzles, and Jinyoung suddenly finds breathing easier. As if the heavy boulder he’s been carrying for years eases off his chest, allowing for his ribcage to expand with every inhale.

Jaebeom looks miserable. 

He shuts his eyes. _Gives in_. Jaebeom has always been a special case, always been special to Jinyoung. 

“For someone who writes songs that top every chart, you sure are bad with words.” Jinyoung says. “Yeah, you’re so fucking bad at it, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom looks at him funnily, and this time Jinyoung tastes a sense of victory, enjoys the feel of Jaebeom trying to read him and failing. 

He’s done it countless times for so long that he recognizes the slouch of Jaebeom’s shoulders, the fidgeting of his hands, the wobbly knees – Jinyoung’s seen them all in the mirror once. It’s a gratifying change to see his past reflection stand in person before him. 

“Jinyoung.”

Jaebeom looks so lost and on the brink of collapsing, and Jinyoung’s tongue is covered with the sharp bittersweetness of burnt chocolate. Dark and thick, almost perfect, if not for the way it upsets his stomach and makes him want to reach for water to stop the urge to gag. 

Jaebeom always did make him reach for a lifeline. 

When they were fighting, when they weren’t speaking, even when they were good – Jaebeom has always made Jinyoung clutch for dear life as if his reality is a roller coaster with no end. 

And for some reason beyond logic, Jinyoung still won’t trade it for the world. 

Even if Jaebeom traded him in the end. 

“Jinyoung, I—”

“So fucking bad at it.” Jinyoung inhales and he’s baffled that it doesn’t sting as it used to. “All you do is say my name as if that would explain everything.”

“Jin—”

Jinyoung raises a brow for emphasis. “See? You don’t use actual words, Jaebeom. Yet you expect me to understand. It’s been two whole years and I still don’t know what happened.”

“I told you why!” Jaebeom says in defense, voice rising almost in frenzy. “I told you before anyone else. Hell, I’ve been telling you _before_ I made the decision,” he runs a hand over his face, shoulders slumping even more, and if he weren’t standing, Jinyoung thinks he’ll curl in on himself on the wet floor. 

But when Jaebeom looks up again, this time, there’s a sharp glint in his eyes, and Jinyoung almost takes a step back at the aggression he sees. 

“And even after that, it’s _you_ who didn’t pick up my calls, _you_ who ignored my messages. It’s you, Jinyoung.” Jaebeom sounds angry when he says, “You just deleted me from your life, dropped me so quick, so easy. You can’t blame me for what happened to us.”

_Us_ again. Jinyoung knows it’s not about them _and_ the others. It’s not about GOT7. 

It’s about them, Jaebeom and Jinyoung. 

They’ve always been a duo, to the others, to the universe, even before they acknowledged it.

It’s always been about them, but Jinyoung won’t shoulder the blame for their ruination. He had been the one to fix the mess Jaebeom left behind – the mass of destruction that almost permanently tore GOT7 apart, the wreckage that had been Jinyoung himself. 

It took two whole years of sleepless nights, of self-blame, of grasping at straws to get to where he is now. And after two years, seven months and mere days, this is the best he can show. 

Ringing in his ears, chest open wide, cuts and bruises all over. 

Two years and Jinyoung is still the wreckage he has been, but one thing has changed – he won’t take everything lying down again. He refuses to let Jaebeom put the blame on him.

Jaebeom wants to talk? Jinyoung will bare it all. It’s about time they end this game of cat and mouse. He grasps the opportunity. 

“You say that but what you don’t realize, after all this time, is that you’ve deleted me from your life way before you left, Jaebeom.” 

They’ve always been mirrors of each other, souls intertwined and bodies in sync. 

And now that Jinyoung can read Jaebeom, can see his innermost self naked, they’re on even grounds. If Jaebeom swings and hurts him, he can punch back just as hard. 

“I may have cut the thread, but you’ve been sawing at it for god knows how long,” he hisses, keeping his voice a rumble, an echo of the harsh downpour. It won’t be good if they made a scene at Yugyeom’s party. “You don’t have the right to be mad at me. You don’t _get_ to be mad at me just because I was trying to preserve myself, you selfish asshole.”

Jaebeom looks at him like he can’t believe what he’s saying. Jinyoung thinks it’s stupid. Just because they were good for a few years, it doesn’t mean that all the fighting prior didn’t exist. 

Jinyoung doesn’t forget how Jaebeom at the start of JJ Project had been – brash and short tempered and always so angry. Jinyoung doesn’t forget that he’d been Jaebeom’s punching bag for months before finding a common ground and declaring truce. 

Jinyoung doesn’t, _can’t_ , forget anything about Jaebeom, and it’s stupid, so, so stupid that Jaebeom is mouth agaped and dumbfounded.

“Jinyoungie, I just, I—”

“What, Jaebeom? Finish your sentence,” Jinyoung leans against the rails and stares at the group of kids trying to out-drunk each other. Must be nice, he thinks, to not give a shit. But he can’t; it’s programmed in him to give a damn to anything that involves Jaebeom, no matter how much he iced out and fooled himself into thinking he got over everything. 

It’s stupid because nothing is over.

Jaebeom is still looking at him. 

Nothing will be over. 

“Let’s stop this, Jaebeom,” he says with a loud sigh. “Let’s finish this thing, close the wounds so we can start to heal. We can’t go on like this anymore.”

“But—”

“I need to move on from you leaving us, and you need to stop being hung up about our lost friendship.” 

A gust of wind blew in their direction and slapped them in the face. Jinyoung winces at the sudden wetness and shivers, this time, at the cold. He guesses that even the universe thinks it’s a bad idea. 

He adds, “It’s never coming back.”

What he’s doing, what he’s proposing – the heavens don’t agree but Jinyoung doesn’t care. It’s been too long already, something needs to change, and the only out, the only light at the end of this pitch black tunnel he can see is severing the last remaining thread between them. 

Cut Jaebeom completely loose and burn the bridge so both of them can’t run towards each other anymore. 

A period. A conclusion to a painfully drawn out chapter. 

He’s already planning an escape plan, calculating the seconds it will take to dash back inside, to go back to the safety of the party and GOT7. He’s about to take the first step when Jaebeom says his name again, but this time, it freezes him in place. 

There’s something different about it this time. Something like forging iron over glowing coals, hot and scalding and the sparks burns Jinyoung. 

Jaebeom says his name again, but this time, Jinyoung isn’t able to cut him off. The way Jaebeom has said it, it’s like he’s making a point, and Jinyoung knows that whatever happens next will make or break them. 

He readies himself. 

“Fine.” Jaebeom says, tone sharp and direct, hitting Jinyoung straight in the gut, “If that’s what you really want then I can’t do anything anymore.”

Jinyoung keeps his attention on Yugyeom’s crowd, focusing on Yugyeom’s wide smile and the rest of the boys’ happy faces. 

Jaebeom will finally be history, a thing of the past that will only exist when Jinyoung falters during lonely and drunken nights. 

It’s what he’s wanted for so long. Jinyoung wonders why he isn’t happy. No sense of relief, just endless darkness without end.

“ _Fine_ , let’s throw a decade of friendship into the bin, forget what we once were to each other,” Jaebeom sounds bitter, like he’s spitting venom, “Forget all the sacrifices and shit we’ve done together. Erase my name and my existence because that’s what I’ll be doing too.”

Jinyoung keeps his eyes wide open, too afraid that if he blinks, the wetness in the corner of his eyes can no longer be excused as raindrops. He focuses harder on the party going inside. Crying when he’s supposed to feel relieved – Jinyoung knows that if he lets the tears run down, it won’t be cathartic. He’ll just appear pathetic.

“Is that what you want, huh? Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung doesn’t know what he wants. All he knows is he needs to stop the shards in his chest from digging deeper. It had eased up a while ago, but now they’re back at scratching Jinyoung’s sensitive inside, thrice the intensity, tearing every bit of flesh in their wake. 

He nods, not trusting himself to open his mouth. He has the feeling that he’ll take everything back if he opens his mouth because Jaebeom is seething right beside him and is still angrily staring at him and talking to him. 

It’s not the time to waver but Jaebeom is pressing on him so hard, he isn’t sure he can hold out any longer. He _will_ break.

The storm continues its assault, around Jinyoung, inside Jinyoung. 

Jaebeom shakes his head aggressively, left and right – a habit he does when he’s angry, when he’s bored, when he’s happy, and Jinyoung detests himself for noticing all the small, familiar things – and punches the railing. “Goddammit, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung stays quiet and unmoving.

“You won’t even look at me!” Jaebeom snarls, “Is this really how you want us to end? Jinyoung, _please_ , is this what you really want?”

“I don’t know,” he whimpers, asks Jaebeom in not so many words to ease up, to back away, to stop because it’s too much. _Too much_. “I don’t know if this is what I want, okay? All I know is that this is what I _need_ to keep being GOT7’s leader.” Jinyoung clenches the hem of his shirt, now damp from the mist, bunching the fabric tightly that there will certainly be creases once he’s managed to let go. But that’s okay, creases can be ironed out, can be straightened again. Pretend nothing happened. 

“You were the leader once and even if you aren’t part of the group anymore, you should understand. I need to be strong, I need to be GOT7’s Jinyoung. You of all people _should_ understand that. I can’t keep being stuck in the past. I need to move on!”

Lighting cracks and thunder roars above them. 

“You don’t have to move on from me!” Jaebeom yells and it snaps Jinyoung’s focus. 

Jaebeom places himself in Jinyoung’s line of vision and Jinyoung can see the rage pouring out of his every pore. 

Jinyoung doesn’t have to be an expert in Jaebeomese right now to know that Jaebeom is well beyond _mad_. It takes him back to their early beginnings. 

He feels torn. On one hand, he’s relieved that beneath all the layers, Jaebeom and he are still the same people they were. On the other hand, it’s stupid to dwell on things like childhood and growing up and growing apart. 

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Jaebeom argues, “I’m not saying sorry for that. I know I did what was best for everyone. What I’m asking you, right now, is to not throw everything away!

“Jinyoung, we were good, we fit right with each other and you know that. _God_ , everyone knows that. You can’t just throw that kind of connection away. That’s _wrong_ and I won’t let you.”

“You don’t really have the rights to say these things.” Jinyoung counters, resolve slipping away the more Jaebeom shouts at him.

“I have! I’m your best friend and you know it.”

“You stopped being a friend the moment you left me in that studio two years ago. Stop acting like you care. If you won’t do it for me, at least do it for the sake of the group.”

Jaebeom pulls his hair in frustration and glares at Jinyoung like he will pounce at any given second. “I do care! And honestly, if you didn’t ignore me afterwards, nothing would’ve changed! We’d still be Jaebeom _and_ Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung wraps an arm around himself, leaning on the railing farther, the metal digging into his back. “I don’t know, Jaebeom. It’s not easy and you’re only making it more difficult for the both of us.” A pause, then he continues, “You hurt me and I hurt you. There’s no going around that. We’ve damaged each other.”

“Listen, Nyoungie, how many times have we fought in the past?” Jaebeom asks determinedly, eyes ablazed with passion Jinyoung hasn’t seen for so long. Not in the last months leading to Jaebeom’s departure from the group. Not even _during_. 

To be the recipient of such energy again – Jinyoung has no choice left but to revisit the past. 

Jinyoung recollects the years, and instantly a flood of memories washes over him. It’s like a dam breaking and Jinyoung is drowning in Jaebeom and the decade they spent together.

_Jaebeom. Jaebeom. Jaebeom._

He takes a sharp inhale. “I don’t know! Why are you bringing it up? We fought a lot in the beginning.”

“Exactly! And even when we got along, you still gave me hell whenever I did wrong. But the thing is, we always made up afterwards.”

“That’s...Jaebeom, those were different.”

“No, they aren’t. We just didn’t talk for two years instead of the usual two days. You’re mad at me for something I did without clear explanations like all the other times you got mad at me. This time is no different from the other times and if you start talking to me again, I’m sure we’ll forget about this fight like how we forget all the petty arguments we’ve had.”

Jinyoung stares at Jaebeom in disbelief. Jaebeom treats the two years and five months like it is miniscule. Like it’s something they could just step over. 

If it were, Jinyoung would’ve already moved on a long, long time ago. 

“It’s not that simple, Jaebeom.” He shakes his head. “You hurt the others. You almost destroyed GOT7. You...you really hurt me.”

“Yes and you hurt me too.” Jaebeom stops his assault and stretches his lips in melancholy. It’s a whisper to the wind when he says, “I kept in touch with the others after I left. It wasn’t _that_ bad with them. They understood and forgave when you didn’t. You who I counted on the most to understand. You _didn’t_.”

A standstill. Even the wind blowing against them seems to stop and stare, watching the two of them just stand there in the darkness of the night, with lightning as backdrop and thunder as background music. 

Jinyoung doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. It feels like they’ve reached a breakthrough of some sort. 

His anger has toned down, and his mouth is no longer bitter. It’s bland and tasteless, and he’s not choking on words that prickle anymore. 

And Jaebeom, too, looks winded down, looks spent, exhausted from his outburst.

They’ve always been mirrors of each other, souls intertwined and bodies in sync. 

“Where do we go from here, Jaebeom?”

“I’m going wherever you want to go, Jinyoung. I’m not leaving you alone this time.”

“We can’t go back to the past.”

“It’s okay. We’ll just have to start over again.”

“We can’t be like what we were before. We can’t be like that again.”

“We’ll just have to manage. Make dreams together instead of just aligning them. That way, no one leaves and no one gets left behind.”

✶

Jaebeom and Jinyoung enter the rowdy room side by side. 

There’s still a substantial gap between them, but it’s okay. The space between them is definitely better than what it had been, seemingly limitless and laden with hostility for the past that they hadn’t been able to fully understand.

Jinyoung _still_ doesn’t grasp Jaebeom’s reason fully, _still_ thinks that Jaebeom had been selfish for choosing out instead of braving the consequences of fame and success with them. Jaebeom could have opened up to them, to Jinyoung, about it. They might have not been able to help with the root cause, but Jinyoung is sure they would have prevented the bloody outcome. 

Jinyoung is certain that had he known what Jaebeom was going through at that time, he would've been able to hold onto Jaebeom tighter, would’ve made it more difficult for the other to exit through the studio’s door and walk away from the life they made for themselves. 

Jinyoung would have been able to come out of the situation unscathed.

Jinyoung still hasn’t forgiven Jaebeom entirely but he’s starting, taking baby steps and dealing with an open mind, and Jaebeom is in the process of doing so as well. They’ve managed to stitch each other’s gaping wounds close and applied antiseptic to the scratches they’ve inflicted. They are starting to heal – a closure Jinyoung didn’t think was possible.

But it shouldn’t have been a surprise, thinking back to all the hardships they’ve weathered together since it is a universal truth that Jaebeom’s mind is formidable and Jinyoung’s heart is a fortress. That truth had been both their boon and bane, had been their defense system and their undoing.

It shouldn’t have been a shock that they reached another tipping point in their relationship because they’ve always done the impossible whenever they’re together after all. When they were trainees hoping to debut, when they were JJ Project and failed. Jinyoung shouldn't be surprised – they’ve always risen against the odds together. At least when they set their thoughts into it. 

They still have a lot of learning to do. Jinyoung might be able to read Jaebeom again and Jaebeom might be having difficulties reading Jinyoung now, but they will learn. They have to if they want to repair the bond they’ve brutally tried to destroy.

Yugyeom sees them first and there must be something written in the air surrounding them, something tangible and solid, because as soon as they stepped back inside the room, Yugyeom burst out in tears.

“Oh my god!” Yugyeom cries and drops the glass he’s holding, spilling amber liquid on the carpeted floor. “Oh my god! I can’t believe this!” He doesn’t even bother wiping the tears away and heaves shamelessly like he isn’t surrounded by his college friends.

“Holy shit,” someone hisses and before Jinyoung completely realizes what is happening, the members of GOT7 are crowding him and Jaebeom while the rest of the partygoers watch the scene unfold with interest and confusion.

Bambam starts shrieking and crying as well. Youngjae clutches his head and pulls on his hair as if he’s going insane, wide eyed and he’s crying too. Mark is smiling really brightly at them, disbelief coloring his face, like he’s witnessing a miracle. And Jackson – Jackson forces a hug on him and Jaebeom, jostling the both of them until Jinyoung is flushed against Jaebeom in Jackson’s embrace.

“Finally!” Jackson exclaims, sounding like he found Jinyoung and Jaebeom alive after believing they were dead. 

And perhaps that is what this is.

Perhaps Jinyoung and Jaebeom are brought back from the grave of denial and obstinacy and resentment.

Perhaps this is rebirth for the both of them.

Jinyoung feels the warmth of Jaebeom’s skin amidst their damp clothes, and Jinyoung thinks of new beginnings, of forgiveness, of absolution.

There’s still a gap between them but it doesn’t feel as infinite and endless as the Milky Way anymore.

✶

Outside, the storm eases to a halt.

The lightning and thunder stop.

The magpies come out of their hiding place.

✶

Hyunjae stares at the flatline the monitor displays, disbelief in hearing the shrill note that doesn’t stop but indicates that his girlfriend’s breathing did. 

Hyunjae stands unmoving as a flurry of nurses and doctors swarm around her and start shouting and prodding and resuscitating. One doctor starts chest compression as another injects epinephrine into one of the countless lines attached to her. A nurse yells that the oxygen saturation isn’t picking up and that the blood pressure keeps on dropping.

A defibrillator. 120 joules. 

Another nurse shoves him aside and he stumbles, still unable to process that the love of his life is dying right in front of him. 

150 joules. 

Hyunjae can’t breathe and he feels his own heart ceasing. He sees light, so bright and blinding, and he thinks he’s dying as well. 

200 joules. 

Then everything stops.

A time is announced but he can’t process the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth. 

He still hears the shrill ring of the machine, the high pitched note, and wonders why everyone stopped trying. His girlfriend is still fighting!

It’s when a doctor tugs him away from the scene and out to the corridor did Hyunjae realize that the high pitched sound was coming from him. 

Not the machine – the machine’s stopped reading and beeping for some time already. 

It’s his choked sobs and whimpers he hears. Scratchy and grating like nails scraping a wooden board. 

The doctors and nurses cast him a mournful look, but those don’t hold a candle to how he feels inside. 

The ton-heavy regret that washes over him at how their ending turned out to be. 

Hyunjae desperately wishes to turn back time and retract all the violent words he had said to her, take back the accusations and prevent the brutal fight. 

He loves her. Oh god, does he love her. 

And now she’s gone and he’s filled with regrets. 

Hyunjae ambles through the pristine white corridors that always smell so strongly of bleach and antiseptic. He drags himself to a chair, stares at his hands. 

He might as well have killed her with his cruel actions, with his selfishness. 

Hyunjae thinks he’s killed himself too. 

✶

The director yells cut and Jinyoung breaks character. 

Everyone congratulates him for the outstanding performance. It had taken them only two runs of the difficult scene and it was all because of Jinyoung’s acting skills. He was able to perfectly convey the turmoil in Hyunjae down to the last shreds of guilt and self-loathing. 

Jinyoung thinks it’s the most difficult scene he’s acted. The mental preparation he did, putting himself in Hyunjae’s shoes and slipping on Hyunjae’s skin, taking in on his mind and bearing his emotions like a cross – it took a considerable amount of preparation on Jinyoung’s part to put on Hyunjae’s mask for this scene.

He’s proud of himself for pulling it off remarkably well. 

He’s also proud of himself for not letting the lines blur this time. 

He was able to separate himself from Hyunjae, portraying emotions that are exclusively Hyunjae’s despite being so similar to him. Despite almost ending up like him. 

Jinyoung doesn’t feel guilt and doesn’t hate himself, and he’s relieved. It must have been because his ending turned out to be different. 

A chorus of surprised gasps erupt in the room and catches Jinyoung’s attention.

He turns his head and there, standing awkwardly and holding what seems like plastic bags of take out – there stands Jaebeom, smiling hesitantly at him. 

Jinyoung, instinctively, immediately strides to Jaebeom, dismissing the director and producers showering him with praises, and drags him out to the hallway and towards the seclusion his dressing room offers. 

After locking the door, Jinyoung stares dumbfoundedly at Jaebeom, at a loss for what to say because _why is he here?_

Jaebeom nods and starts arranging the food he brought on the small table, meticulously laying the dishes and utensils in a way that brushes Jinyoung’s feathers the wrong way because Jaebeom is messy and sloppy and shouldn’t be here. 

“What are you doing here?” Jinyoung demands. “Why are you here?”

“I brought lunch?” Jaebeom says, shifting weight from one foot to the other. “It’s lunch time.”

Jinyoung continues to stare because it’s a stupid reason. It doesn’t make sense. 

But then again, none of the things Jaebeom did in the past had been easy to explain. Jaebeom is an enigma and Jinyoung is just starting on being able to read him again. 

Jinyoung sees honesty plain as day on Jaebeom’s face. No tricks, no hidden modus.

Still, Jinyoung finds it hard to believe that Jaebeom really is here. On his filming set. Out in the open. In _his_ space. 

“What...why?”

Jaebeom runs a hand on his hair, “It’s what friends do, Jinyoung. Bringing lunch and eating together on set...we’ve done it countless times, haven’t we?”

“Jaebeom, I told you. We can’t go back to the past. That’s not how we move on.”

Jaebeom tips his chin up, almost in defiance, as if Jinyoung is picking a fight again which is ridiculous because Jinyoung isn’t. He’s just really, really at a loss. 

“I know that. I’m here because you’re always busy and there’s no other way to share a meal with you.” Jaebeom explains. “I want to spend time with you and be your best friend again. If we can’t go back to the past, that’s fine with me. We’ll just work on being friends again _this time_. And sharing a meal is a good start.”

Jinyoung squints his eyes and purses his mouth. He never really did understand how Jaebeom’s mind worked. 

“I brought dumplings? That’s still your favorite, right?”

And Jaebeom looks so hopeful, looks as if Jinyoung has the world on the palms of his hand and he has the power to crush everything. 

Jinyoung wishes he did. But he’s just as helpless as Jaebeom. 

So he sighs, the tension leaving his body, and he turns around for the door. 

“Hey! Where are you going? You can’t just run away like that!” Jaebeom accuses. 

Jinyoung scoffs, “Please, I’m not like you. I’m not running away. I’m just going to inform everyone on set, who are probably still confused about your presence here and waiting for my explanation, that I’m taking my lunch now.”

“So you’re eating with me?”

Jinyoung gestures at the feast covering the table, “You don’t give me much of a choice here, Jaebeom. As usual.”

“Whatever.” Jaebeom plops on the couch. “Just hurry before I eat all of these. I’m hungry.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. Some things just never change even after barely surviving a catastrophe. 

Jaebeom is still a force to be reckoned with. 

But as Jinyoung walks back to the set, once again engulfed in silence, his mind left alone to run and peruse and speculate, he can’t stop thinking about Hyunjae. 

Jinyoung finds himself eternally grateful that his ending turned out to be the opposite of Hyunjae’s. 

✶

Jinyoung is running late. He jogs through the hallways and curses when the elevator door closes on him. 

He’s running late to a dance rehearsal because he forgot to charge his phone and it died on him before blaring the alarms. Jinyoung is never late and he taps his foot anxiously as he waits for the next lift to arrive. He thought of taking the stairs but trashed the idea immediately since his legs are no match to a set of steel box and pulleys. Plus, the rest of the members and, probably, their choreographer must already be waiting impatiently for him. He can’t afford a workout session by the stairs on the side. 

He almost runs – almost because no matter how late Jinyoung is, he won’t show up disheveled and sweaty. He has too much pride on his idol facade to let that happen. If it were just the members then _maybe_. But it won’t be just the members and he won’t let himself show weakness in front of strangers, even if the choreographer hyung has been with them for years. 

Jinyoung places his hand on the doorknob and is about to pull the lever down when he hears a loud cackle. It sounds familiar and it makes the hairs on Jinyoung’s arms stand. 

He’s sure it’s not one of the members yet it sounds awfully familiar. 

It’s a loud booming sound that takes him to sneaking out in the middle of the night for conbini runs, to lazy movie nights and scattered boxes of pizzas, to the darkness of backstages and clutter under concert stage set ups. 

It takes him back to the years and he knows why it’s familiar. 

It’s Jaebeom. 

The hairs on his arms still stand and his hands start to sweat. 

What is Jaebeom doing here? In the company building? With _his_ members?

Jinyoung pushes the door wide open to see Jaebeom on the floor, bent at an awkward angle with a stupid wide grin, and the rest of GOT7 trying, and failing at varying degrees, to hold some kind of b-boy pose. The choreographer hyung stands on the side and laughs at the mess. 

Jinyoung eyes the scene like it’s murder. He feels the sting of betrayal, a feeling he’s grown to know intimately, in the pit of his stomach again. The embers in his chest are back to glowing, a green monster residing within fanning the coals to a steady flame. 

He’s about to say something he knows he’ll regret, brain to mouth filter faltering, when Jaebeom spots him. And it’s truly unfair that Jaebeom is smiling so genuinely and bright, as if he’s innocent, as if what he’s doing in this rehearsal room with _Jinyoung’s_ members isn’t a crime. As if this right here isn’t thievery. 

The universe must be playing games with him again and picks Jaebeom as the best candidate to push him past his limits. 

Jaebeom has always been the best in driving Jinyoung to the edge. 

“Oh, you’re finally here!” Jaebeom says, sitting up from his ridiculous sprawl. “This is new. I’ve never seen you be late.”

Jinyoung can’t help the scowl that makes its way on his face. “What are you doing here?” 

Jaebeom tilts his head on the side, a brow rising up to challenge, and Jinyoung’s features settle deeper into a frown. “Had a bad morning? You don’t have to take it out on me, you know.”

It took a huge amount of effort for Jinyoung to hold himself back from stomping over to Jaebeom and kicking him right in the face. He can’t believe Jaebeom is doing _this_ in front of the others, riling him, testing his patience, making him teeter on the edge of his limits. 

Not in front of the members. 

Not when they’re just starting to fix the bridge between them, full of holes and cracked wood and severed ropes. 

Jaebeom can’t be doing this to him now. 

“Out.” Jinyoung commands. “We have practice. You’re not part of the group and you’re just getting in the way. Get out.”

Someone makes a choking sound and everybody’s head whips towards the origin. Bambam. 

“What?” Bambam hides behind Youngjae. After all these years, after being used to the unwavering attention an entire stadium directs at him – Bambam still squirms under _their_ gazes. He’s still one of their babies no matter the years and how much of a brat he acts. 

The feeling of protectiveness that came over Jinyoung must have surged like a wave over Jaebeom too because before Jinyoung can explain things, Jaebeom has already crawled towards Bambam and is now ruffling the younger’s hair like a fond parent. 

Jinyoung grits his teeth as the flames within him rages bright orange. 

Jaebeom has no right to challenge Jinyoung like this. GOT7 is Jinyoung’s now. Jaebeom can’t just stroll back to their lives and claim possession. It’s not allowed. 

“Jinyoung’s right,” Jaebeom says and Jinyoung squints in suspicion. Jaebeom must be working on a game plan, being this agreeable. Jinyoung is so damned suspicious. The guy has no business being in the company building, after all, if not to challenge Jinyoung’s stake on the group. 

Jaebeom adds, “You’re already behind schedule. If you didn’t listen to me when I was leader, you can’t do the same to Jinyoung.” He stands up and dusts himself off, “Off to professional dancing, you guys. Listen to your leader.”

Then he walks to the door, placing a hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder as he passes him, says, “I’ll go now, then. Bye.”

The door closes and leaves Jinyoung standing oddly, his reflection on the mirrors displaying an out of sorts character, stance and posture unnatural as if he’s torn between running after the jerk or slumping on the ground for relief. 

And everybody else is staring at him too. Suddenly, everyone holds their breath, afraid of how Jinyoung will react. Even the choreographer hyung is confused and wary of what will happen next. 

Well, Jinyoung thinks Jaebeom has made enough confusion. It’s time they all get their asses working. 

He mentally slaps himself to focus. “Get up, everyone. You heard him,” Jinyoung congratulates himself for managing to sound unnerved and unaffected, “I’m your leader now and you all better listen to what I say. Let’s start practice.”

(When they took a fifteen minute break three hours later, Jinyoung reads on his phone a message from an unknown number. 

_Make them work for it! Make them sweat, leader~_

Jinyoung throws his phone hastily back in his bag and stomps to the restroom without saying a word to the others.)

((That night – or morning, Jinyoung’s messed up body clock never seems to understand the concept of time nowadays – Jinyoung saves the unknown number under _Stupid jerk_.))

✶

Jinyoung gets called to the studio for recording a solo song that will be included in the album. The others have finished and it’s only his song left remaining for GOT7‘s second chance at the limelight. He’s determined to give his best – he always gives his best, but this time, he’s dead set on giving it his all and _more_. 

Jinyoung will not leave the studio room until he’s positive that he has delivered perfection. He won’t fail the group for a second time. He knows that if he does, there won’t be another chance, no more excuse of a hiatus. It will be the definite end to GOT7 and he can’t afford that, they all can’t. 

He can’t be the one crushing the light in his members’ eyes.

And that’s when he sees him – again. Jaebeom is sprawled on the couch, headphones on and reading a book. He’s in Jinyoung’s studio, and Jinyoung is baffled that he doesn’t mind it as much as he did, something along the lines of past being surprised at the other’s presence. 

It’s not even going to be a stretch to say that he’s somehow expected Jaebeom to just pop up, as if materializing from thin air nowadays. 

This thing that’s going on, this thing between them, the careful and slow, sometimes desperate, but steady steps to rebuilding their friendship – it’s been going on for an entire month now and Jinyoung has to give kudos for effort that Jaebeom is trying so hard. 

It almost feels like he really won’t up and leave this time around, making a permanent dent in Jinyoung’s iced out, smooth as marble, existence again. 

“Where’s PD-nim?”

When he closes the door, Jaebeom removes the headphones over his head and dog ears the novel he’s holding. 

“He just made a call, said he’ll be back soon. He asked me to keep you company for the meantime.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes and he settles in front of the computer, opening files at random, clicking and clicking. He just has to do something, keep himself occupied with something else because even if it’s been weeks already, he still doesn’t know how to put his guard down in front of Jaebeom.

“As if he’d really say that.” Jinyoung opens the composition to his song and lets the melody play. “Why are you even here? It’s a solo schedule. The others aren’t going to come.”

Jaebeom hums, “I know. I came here for you, not them.”

Silence. Jinyoung continues clicking and opening files, pretending to be busy. After all, what does he say to that? How should he answer in return?

He hears shuffling from behind and then there’s a warm body hovering over him. Jinyoung stiffens and he’s sure Jaebeom has sensed the awkwardness, but if anything, Jaebeom only presses further, leaning closer to Jinyoung in an attempt to see the computer screen clearly. 

“So this is your song?” Jaebeom says with obvious amusement. “It sounds so you.”

It settles bad in Jinyoung’s gut. “What do you mean by that?” He couldn’t keep the harshness out of his tone; he doesn’t want to.

“Hey, hey, easy there,” Jaebeom sighs and stands straighter. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it. Just that, it really sounds like you. Stop being so defensive.”

“How can I not be when I don’t understand half the words you say?”

“I exactly mean what I said. It sounds like you when I said it sounds like you,” Jaebeom bites his lip in contemplation, as if trying to pick apart his thoughts to form coherent words that Jinyoung _will_ understand. “Simple and straightforward but strong and grounded. Calm. Safe. Definitely sounds like you, Jinyoungie.”

It catches Jinyoung off guard. The clicking stops. He turns and meets Jaebeom’s eyes, so black, so deep. 

“Are you saying I’m boring?”

Jaebeom laughs, the way he does when he finds Jinyoung adorably clueless back in the day, and Jinyoung takes offense because this is the present, not the past. They’re not the friends they had been, and most importantly, he’s not trying to be funny. 

“No, no, no. You're not boring! And I can hear your thoughts, you know? I’m not laughing because you were funny.”

Jinyoung raises a brow in demand for Jaebeom to continue explaining. He swears he’s better at reading Jaebeom again but there’s still a lot written between lines and vague metaphors and blurry letters to Jaebeom’s sentences, and the years he’s spent being unable to decipher the other’s meanings and the two years that they ceased communicating pose as huge, thick walls to truly understanding Jaebeom’s words.

He’s getting better but it’s not enough. 

It’s what Jinyoung’s vehemently worried about. 

That it’s never going to be enough.

After all, it _had not_ been enough to make Jaebeom stay once upon a time. 

“I can never understand you.”

Jaebeom pauses mid laugh, looks at Jinyoung seriously now. No mirth, no kidding around. “What do you mean? You understand me better than anyone else and if you can’t see it, I guess you’re still in denial.”

“What—what are you talking about? Denial? Me? About what?”

Jaebeom sighs and ruffles Jinyoung’s hair – and it’s _electrifying_. 

The touch jolts Jinyoung, and his hair, where Jaebeom’s fingers are making a mess of his meticulously styled do, burns from the roots on his scalp all the way down to the tips of every strand. 

“I’m just saying that your music, it hasn’t changed,” Jaebeom softly murmurs and it’s so, so gentle, the way he says it, that Jinyoung feels sparks and tingles all over. A firecracker about to set off.

”It still feels like home to me.”

Jinyoung stops breathing. 

He feels he will burst, _is_ afraid of bursting because the sound might disrupt this – this whatever – that’s settled over them. 

It’s in the air, in every molecule, in Jinyoung’s atoms, this whatever, and he’s so damned afraid to touch it. He fears the bubble would break if he lets himself explode.

He keeps _not_ breathing. 

Jinyoung hasn’t visited his parents’ house in a while. Schedules after schedules piled up high on his plate during the group’s hiatus, in the company’s attempt to not lose revenue from one of their best selling artists despite being independent of a group. And even after that, when GOT7’s proposed comeback had been announced, Jinyoung just got swept by more schedules. He hasn’t seen his parents in a while.

And his house – it serves as accommodation, nothing more, nothing less. Jinyoung spends less and less time there, foregoing the travel in exchange for the few hours he could use for extra practice or simply, for resting, slowing down and taking a breather after finishing one schedule before jumping to another. 

The point is, he hasn’t been home for a while now, for much longer than he can remember. He has forgotten everything that relates to the safety and warmth, of peace and serenity, that a home brings. A place to shed his worries and _just be_.

But Jaebeom – Jaebeom is saying that his song feels home to him.

Simplicity. Frankness. Strength. Calmness. Safety. 

Jaebeom is saying his song is all those things, and Jinyoung is reeling. He can’t process it. The idea isn’t sinking in, won’t settle in his mind.

And the worse part is, Jinyoung can read what Jaebeom is saying between the lines this time. Truly, he mentally laughs like a man slipping and falling into the pits of insanity, this ability he has been practicing to sublimity, this fluency in Jaebeom’s language – it’s both boon and bane.

Because he can read it, as clear as day: Jaebeom is saying _he_ feels like home.

Jinyoung keeps holding his breath. Jaebeom can’t be serious; he can’t mean that the place he can just be, the place where he doesn’t have to pretend, the place that he can be Lim Jaebeom and not GOT7’s leader – Jaebeom can’t fucking mean that place to be Jinyoung.

Jinyoung can’t let the truth be _that_ because he doesn’t know how he will cope. He can’t let _that_ be fact because...because...he just _can’t_.

His reality can’t be this, can’t be Jaebeom saying all these things after all that’s happened.

What is Jaebeom even trying to get at?

Boon and bane. Jinyoung rubs his temples to ease the beginnings of a headache, takes three slow and deep breaths, tampers the firecracker threatening to consume him like how its many predecessors had done, leaving Jinyoung gasping from the aftermath. Jaebeom really will be the cause of his death, one way or another.

He is about to call Jaebeom out on his bullshit when the door opens and reveals the producer Jinyoung is working with. The universe’s timing really is flawless when it comes to interrupting him, Jinyoung thinks.

“Oh, you’re here! Sorry, higher-ups called,” the PD-nim says and sits on the vacant chair beside Jinyoung, checking on the files Jinyoung opened up, and inserts a flashdrive. “They gave suggestions.”

Jinyoung’s heart sank. Suggestions don't just mean suggestions. Reading between the lines has always been easier when it comes to other people. People who aren’t Jaebeom.

When higher-ups give suggestions, they mean compliance to a concept, a theme different to what he made. It means rearranging his track to fit into the album better. To fit GOT7’s image better. 

He’s used to it, but the disappointment still lingers like smoke, clouding the edges of his vision and whispering what ifs. He’s used to it, though, and really, it can’t be helped.

But apparently Jaebeom still hasn’t. He scoffs, “You mean they don’t want his song. They want another track, another arrangement that is safe and will be a hit on the charts. They want a song that sounds so generic, it might as well be sung by any other person and nothing will change. That’s what you mean, right?”

Words are stuck in Jinyoung’s throat. Jaebeom has a point, has a _lot_ of valid points, but it won’t change anything. And that’s where their ultimate difference lies.

Jinyoung will do everything to protect what he has, even if that means shutting the hell up and making the best of what is given to him.

Jaebeom – he’s a dreamer, a free spirit, isn’t afraid to be burned. 

Jinyoung can’t take any more burns. He’s already charred from the inside out. 

Whatever, he’s fared well with being homeless for so long. He doesn’t need the illusion Jaebeom paints, doesn’t need empty hopes and promises. And besides, GOT7 _is_ his home.

The PD-nim sighs, “I know this is the reason why you left, Jaebom-ssi. What you said is true, I’m not gonna argue with you on that. But Jinyoung-ssi is still in GOT7, still in the company. What the bosses say, that’s what it’ll be.”

Jaebeom clicks his tongue and clenches his jaw. “Yeah, this is precisely why I left. _God_ , this is frustrating!”

And Jinyoung softens despite their stark moral differences. Jaebeom is sticking up for him, is upset because of something that isn’t even new. The industry is wretched, its system despicable at times, but it is what Jinyoung chose. It's what both of them signed up for when they were fifteen and had nothing but wild ambitions.

“Hyung is right and you know that,” Jinyoung says, “And you’re wrong when you said it won’t matter if other people sing it. You know I don’t give up easily. I’ll bargain with the bosses until _my_ song gets approved. And even if it turns out quite generic, you know my voice will make a difference. It will make the goddamned difference.”

Jinyoung stares at Jaebeom eye to eye without falter. He means it. He won’t just give up control so easily, not over his own solo song, not at anything he’s put so much work in. Jaebeom might see him as a puppet, but he’s got more say than just a mere marionette.

He thinks he kind of gets it now, a little bit at least. The reason why Jaebeom left them, it’s a bit clearer now. And so when he asks him to leave this time, it’s not as harsh and snappy.

After all, he just saw a glimpse of his old best friend, and he’s nothing if not a sucker for a Jaebeom who stands by his side and fights for his rights blindlessly even if no one is really taking anything Jinyoung isn’t willing to give up.

He’s always loved Jaebeom’s protectiveness. 

Perhaps that’s why being abandoned by him had hurt Jinyoung so much, why he had tried to cut all ties with him.

“I think it’s time for you to get lost now,” he waves a hand, shooing Jaebeom away. “We need to start working and you have no business here.”

Jaebeom purses his lips. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone. You’re always so harsh on me, what best friend you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, close the door on your way out.”

If the producer hyung gave him and Jaebeom’s leaving form a confused look, Jinyoung didn’t comment on it.

No one needs to know what is going on between Lim Jaebeom and Park Jinyoung. If Jinyoung can make Jaebeom safe and far away from GOT7’s Jinyoung, maybe they really have a shot at a second chance.

✶

GOT7 is finally back.

Jinyoung paces backstage at Inkigayo, walking back and forth and making everyone dizzy. He can’t help it; it’s finally time to grace the stage again and all of their fans, who stood strong over the past two years, who never wavered in their support for the group, are screaming for them. Jinyoung hears it, the familiar roar of the crowd, and he can’t help but wring his hands and go through another once over of their choreography.

“Jinyoung, calm down,” Jackson slings an arm over him, “You’re making everybody nervous.”

He stops and looks around. He _is_ making everyone nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t like you, hyung.” Yougjae adjusts his mic. “You’re the epitome of grace under pressure. Is anything wrong?”

As he’s met with his members’ expectant gazes, it dawns on Jinyoung just how tough of a job being a leader is. Sure, managing the group’s schedules, making sure no one is slacking, attending meetings and talking to important people – Jinyoung knows how to do that. But this, when everyone is looking up to him for morale when he himself is on the verge of losing it, Jinyoung feels the burden.

His heart is pounding in his chest. He is now the leader and there is no better place for him to act as one. Jinyoung knows he’s put to the test, the final hurdle for him to claim the position Jaebeom has left.

He briefly wonders if Jaebeom had always felt this weight, had always hid the anxiety creeping in and telling him he’s not enough.

Jinyoung sees Jaebeom in a new light, finds a newfound respect for the man. This leader thing, it’s not easy. Too much pressure.

But Jinyoung will not bend.

He focuses, gathers all the stray bits and fragments of GOT7’s Jinyoung, pieces them together in one solid form, and slips it over his skin. Jinyoung imagines putting on a coat, a thick, long fabric that is impenetrable and shields him from those looking from the outside.

The sensation is just like any other role he has played. It feels heavy but he’s used to it. Wearing another personality – Jinyoung’s already an expert when it comes to that.

So now when he smiles, there’s no trace of hesitation or uneasiness. It’s charming and bright and encouraging. Just like how GOT7’s Jinyoung’s smile should be.

And when the members returned his smile, seemingly more confident and sure of themselves and of what will happen in the next fifteen minutes, Jinyoung knows he’s done the right thing. After all, there are certain matters only GOT7’s Jinyoung, stronger and infinitely more charismatic, can handle. 

Park Jinyoung, the normal one, the average guy who just wants to succeed and see his hard work pay off, sits in a corner, watching silently and praying that no accidents or unexpected slips will happen.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just excited,” he says to everyone in the room, “I can’t wait to see them all again.”

“Hey, it’s not like we haven’t seen them, hyung,” Yugyeom chuckles, “We’ve seen them lots. Especially you, hyung, with your never ending activities.”

“Yeah, there’s that but it’s going to be the first time we’ll face them as GOT7 again after so long. It’s different. Let’s make them proud.”

Jinyoung nods and puts his hand forward, encouraging the others to put theirs on top. The members grin and shouts various cheers. Jinyoung can see they’re buzzing with energy and he smiles.

They will set the stage on fire. No one will be able to leave the building without burn marks.

He closes his eyes, inhales, exhales. It’s time to be a leader.

He opens his eyes and says: “G-O-T-7 jjai!”

✶

The lights, they’re so, so bright; they make him squint, make his head spin. They flash and flicker, bursts of photons that sear Jinyoung’s retinas, make him see nothing but hot, blistering white. They literally render him blind and Jinyoung has missed it. 

He’s missed it terribly. 

He turns his head and sees his members shine and sparkle, reflecting the rays of the numerous stage lights, and it settles. It settles so warm over him, warmer than the spot light directed at him, it’s almost scalding. 

This. This blinding light, these glitters, alongside a roaring crowd that threatens to shatter their ear drums, the frenzied shouts of their names from adoring fans – this is GOT7. 

And Jinyoung almost cries with the exhilaration. He’s standing on stage again and he feels incredibly hot, and it’s not even from all the lights. He feels hot because the fans are still here, cheering them on and pouring them with affection and undying support, something that Jinyoung almost doubted. 

Because it’s been more than two years. 

Because they’re one member less. 

Because their leader is gone. 

But the deafening screams, it’s still the same, still the same passion, and the sheer strength of the fans’ voices, it’s a tsunami that engulfs Jinyoung and takes him to the depths of the sea, floating aimlessly, limbs carried by trust and loyalty and belief. 

Jinyoung doesn’t know what they did, why he deserves this. 

Jinyoung is overwhelmed by all of it.

The crowd chants their names, and even if it’s different now, even if it sounds a tad off in his ears, the beat and rhythm altered to only six names – the cheer sends the ground shaking and this, this is why Jinyoung works hard. 

This, right here, _ahgases_ , is what he protects against all odds.

Jinyoung thinks the sacrifices might be worth it. 

✶

Jinyoung is high from adrenaline. The ground is still thumping under him and he can still hear the voices of the fans, shouting his name, telling him they’re proud of him and that they will forever be by his side. That they will follow him as their leader now. 

His head is still spinning, ears ringing, blood pumping, and he’s wearing a huge grin that threatens to split his face in half. 

Jinyoung hasn’t been _this_ elated in so long. It tastes of triumph and hard work paying off, feels like soaring in the clouds and grasping the stars. 

It’s straight up euphoria. 

And it’s even better because he’s surrounded by five other idiots, grinning like they won ownership over the universe. It feels like it, though. Feels like they really are untouchable. 

Youngjae gives a loud whoop, voice still loud and strong and reverberates throughout the room. He still hasn’t adjusted, is still using stage voice. It deafens them all the same, but at this rate, Jinyoung really doesn’t care about his auditory abilities. Youngjae, when he’s smiling like this, when he’s jumping like this, when he’s so happy like this – Jinyoung can go deaf and he won’t regret it. 

He’s made this happen. Jinyoung has fought for the group and made this happen. He can go deaf for all he cares. 

He’s made this happen. 

“That was awesome!” Jackson yells, fist pumping in the air. He, too, seems to be vibrating, as if bursting at the seams from the rush of dopamine. “I can’t believe it! Can you believe it? We _owned_ the stage! We are awesome!”

Bambam actually cries. His lips wobble and his face contorts into an ugly mess and he’s sobbing, furiously rubbing his eyes with the back of his forearm. “T-they...oh god, they’re still here. T-they still _love_ us.”

The comment hits Jinyoung like a bullet and he has to swallow the lump that forms in his throat. Thick and cotton-like, too big with spikes around and goes down painfully like thorns scraping his esophagus. 

He always trips over emotions, got burned once when he allowed himself to be vulnerable. It’s why he’s learned to put a mask, don an armour, hide behind a shield.

Jinyoung gets lost when he lets feelings lead him. 

“Bammie,” Yugyeom wraps an arm around Bambam and roughly ruffles his hair, “Stop it, you crybaby. Of course, they still love us!”

Mark comes forward and snakes both arms around Bambam’s waist, hugging him assuredly, “Yeah, we owe them a lot. We made them wait for so long.”

Bambam cries louder, lets the tears fall freely this time, and even the others start to get teary eyed as well, eyes glassy with things they can’t express enough with words and gestures. 

They’re all overwhelmed.

They don’t know how they deserve this. 

Jinyoung thinks it’s unreal. Must be a dream. Unreal. 

✶

Jinyoung first heard the chanting of his name on a smaller stage with lesser people, though not totally bad for a debut. 

He’s got ridiculous hair and even more ridiculous clothes. But it was okay. It had been okay. 

The crowd loved the song, banged their head and danced to the beat. Their dance became a trend, cute little shakes in between pop and rock.

It wasn’t Jinyoung back then. He was using a different name during that time, another identity, another skin. And now that he thinks about it, maybe he’d started slipping on personas way, way before all the pain and hurt happened. 

Perhaps right at the very start, his subconscious had been _acting_ a role, taking on another character that the audience will have no choice but to love and adore.

Perhaps Junior was the first serious role he played.

Junior who had a high, squeaky voice. Junior who had a hyper personality, all whiny and giggly. Junior who tried his best to appeal to his leader. 

And he finds that he isn’t as surprised as he should probably be. Realizing that he’s somehow been compartmentalizing himself, separating himself to pieces, stretching himself far and wide, a piece of him hidden away from prying eyes while another is all for public consumption, as a defense mechanism – he isn’t as surprised and disgusted and disappointed with himself as some people would have been after they have epiphanies such as his. 

After all, all that acting and pretending and boundaries has led him to where he is now. To a place where he had desperately dreamed, a place that seemed so impossible to fifteen year old him. 

And at his very core, at the very depths of his soul where no one can peek, where it’s so barred and closed tight, even he fails to open and access it sometimes – deep down in his very being, Jinyoung knows that the moments that really mattered were true and genuine and real. As real as the universe and the stars it holds.

It was real when Jinyoung touched the sky for the first time after hearing his name be screamed by throngs of fans. It was definitely real when Jinyoung felt king after having his name be paired with another. 

They had been good together, even their names sounded better together. And the heat of debuting, the first concrete step to stardom – it was all better because he had someone else beside him that time.

It was all undeniably real to Jinyoung because it had been overwhelming, being just the two of them on stage. But they managed it, were good for as long as they lasted.

It had been okay. 

It had been more than okay.

And it had been real. 

✶

Jinyoung thinks he’s dreaming when his phone rings while he’s out celebrating with GOT7 and the staff involved with their comeback. 

It went off while he’s in the middle of grilling meat and he should’ve known better than to leave his phone on the table for Jackson’s prying eyes to see. Really, he should’ve known better than to sit next to an overgrown puppy when the celebration involved endless servings of meat and bottles of soju.

Jackson screeches in gibberish, the way he always does when alcohol starts messing with his system. “Jaebeom hyung!”

Jinyoung takes a sharp intake of breath and immediately drops the tongs he’s holding, but it’s too late. Jackson’s already got hands on his phone and has swiped the answer button. 

“Hyung!” Jackson yells into the phone and Jinyoung winces, both for the sake of Jaebeom’s ears and for the shit that will come out of Jackson’s mouth. Jinyoung tries to steal the phone back but Jackson is even more flexible when he’s tipsy. “Did you see, did you see?! We were awesome, hyung! I’m awesome, Mark’s awesome! And Jinyoungie, he’s super awesome, hyung!”

The whole table erupts in laughter, contaminated with Jackson’s bubbly energy. 

“He’s really super awesome! He did this leader talk and he was soooo cool, hyung! Maybe cooler than you! Jinyoungie–,” Jackson hiccups, eyes unfocused and cheeks flushed. His demeanor doesn’t change when he asks next, “Jinyoungie is awesome, hyung, why...I don’t understand how—why did you leave him?”

Jinyoung isn’t drunk but there’s a sudden chill like he’s being dumped with ice water, and whatever little intoxication there is in his blood gets washed away. Fast. 

Jinyoung snaps up and dives for his phone, never minding that the place they’re in is small and really not meant for roughhousing. 

He upturns a plate of vegetables that lands on Jackson’s pants, who, by the way, is pinned under Jinyoung and giggling like crazy.

Okay, Jackson is definitely more than tipsy. 

Jinyoung snatches his phone and glares at Jackson like the guy has killed a puppy in front of them, and it’s enough to shut Jackson’s giggles up. But the idiot is still wearing the most stupid smirk Jinyoung has seen, as if he’s _proud_ of what he’s done, and Jinyoung has to control himself from wiping it off Jackson using his fist. 

He has more important matters to attend to. Like Jaebeom. Yes, yes. Damage control. 

So Jinyoung pulls up, kicks Jackson in the shin for good measure, squints at his members to keep quiet, and gracefully, as graceful as he can with flaming red cheeks and ears, exits the room. 

He power walks to the restroom and shuts himself in a stall. And when he puts the phone to his ears, he catches Jaebeom’s words.

“Is anyone still on the line? Jackson? Jackson, hey? Did you die?”

Jinyoung groans and the questioning stops. 

“You’re not Jackson.”

Jinyoung bangs his head on the door, staring daggers at the toilet bowl, imagining flushing Jaebeom _and_ Jackson down, down, down. 

“Of course, it’s not Jackson, dumbass. It’s _my_ phone. You called _me_ , not Jackson.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. You’re right,” Jaebeom stammers. 

Jinyoung rolls his eyes but regrets the action as soon as his eyeballs come back in place. For a while there, the little white spheres felt they won’t come back, like his skull ate them or whatever. He finds that sobriety isn’t his best friend right now. _Goddammit_. 

“Why did you call anyway?”

Jaebeom suddenly perks up, like he just had a lightbulb moment, and Jinyoung dislikes the way he can envision it in his head, as if Jaebeom really is in front of him, grinning like a maniac. 

“I saw your performance! Jackson is right, you are amazing! You all are, but especially you, Jinyoung.”

Jaebeom sounds so enthused, a little breathy, like he’s high on success too. Which is weird because he wasn’t with them when they stood under the stage lights again. 

Nevertheless, his heart skips a beat. He stays silent. 

“Yeah, I’ve never seen you guys dance so in sync like that in forever! And Yugyeom’s vocals? It’s so stable. You gotta tell management to give him more lines now. Youngjae hit that high note at the end flawlessly but then again, he’s always been good like that.”

Jinyoung keeps his mouth shut. He keeps his eyes shut too. 

“Ah, Bammie! Bam looked so good with that hair style, but I can’t believe you let him out on stage with a crop top. I almost choked on my sandwich when I saw his measly abs, Jinyoung!”

Jinyoung’s grip on the cell tightens. He hopes it wouldn’t dent. 

“And since when did Mark and Jackson go back to doing martial art tricks? No one told me! Are you sure it’s safe for them to? It must be, right? Like they’re given proper practice and warm ups, right?”

He nods despite knowing Jaebeom can’t see him. He nods because he can’t open his mouth and say anything. He feels lightheaded. Must be the liquor in his system.

“And you, Jinyoung, god, you were great. Really, really great.”

Jinyoung leans more heavily on the door. He’s getting really woozy on his feet. 

“Jinyoung? Are you still there?”

“Mhm, I am. Thanks.”

Jaebeom chuckles and the sound travels all the way down to Jinyoung’s toes. He almost wishes he could touch Jaebeom right now. 

“I’m telling the truth, no need to thank me. You were all amazing. I’m so proud of you and the guys.”

And it’s wistful, the way Jaebeom said it, like a father immensely proud of how his children have become. 

Jaebeom’s always been a grandpa, Jinyoung’s mind supplies. 

“Aah, I knew it. You’re going to reach the top even without me.”

Then—faster than he can blink, faster than the flicker of the bathroom lights, something breaks, clangs, hits Jinyoung like an uppercut. If he isn’t making a sound before, he isn’t breathing now too. 

Jaebeom knows this is scary waters, that this is a topic they shouldn’t talk about _now_. It’s all in the past. Done. They should be moving forward now. They talked about moving forward – why the hell is Jaebeom saying _this_ now?

“Or more like, you’re going to reach the top now that I’m not there. I’ve always been the one holding you guys back. I’m so happy to see you all shine like this.”

Jinyoung makes a choking noise because Jaebeom is wrong. So fucking wrong. He pushes off the door, stands upright, stance defensive.

“You’re an ass,” he hisses. 

“What? I’m an ass? I just told you you were amazing and I’m an ass?”

Jinyoung’s head is spinning. He grinds his teeth in frustration. Jaebeom really is an idiot. “You think we’re good because you’re absent? Fuck you, Jaebeom.”

“Woah, woah. Stop that. Don’t be like that, Jinyoung.”

“How can I not be when you’re saying things like that? You think that’s what I want to hear?” Jinyoung accuses, “You think _You’re all better now that I’ve left. I made the right choice because you’re doing better without me. You’re a better leader than me_ is what I want to hear? What do you want me to say? Thank you? No, Jaebeom, fuck you.”

“I don’t want you to thank me. God, no, don’t thank me for _that_ ,” Jaebeom says and he sounds pained, like the idea of Jinyoung thanking him for leaving puts nails under his feet. “It’s not like that and you know it. Stop trying to make me mad. We’re supposed to be celebrating!”

Jinyoung bitterly laughs, “Yes! Celebrate! Me and the rest. GOT7. Not with you. You’re not GOT7 anymore. You aren’t _here_.”

Once the words are out, he knows he’s said too much. 

He should’ve kept his mouth shut, should’ve hung up. Should have held himself back because since when did he become someone who acts first before thinking? That’s not him, not even one of the characters he’s played. 

He’s said way too much and now Jaebeom will leave again and hate him and this time, he won’t return and mend things.

Jinyoung wishes he’s kept his mouth shut. And maybe refused drinking. Maybe if he were sober, he wouldn’t drive Jaebeom away again and Jaebeom won’t hate him _again_. 

He scrambles for words to say because he’s hurt and he’s pissed, but he’s also scared. So, so scared. 

This is why his control never slips, so things like this don't happen. _Shit_. 

“Jaebeom, I—“

“Send me the address.”

That is not what Jinyoung expects to hear.

“W-what?”

“Send me the address to the place. I’ll go there.”

“That’s not—“

“Send me the goddamned address so I can be there and celebrate with you.”

Jinyoung actually takes a step back and hits the door, clutches a hand on his chest. The floor moves under him and the toilet looks about to eat him, devour him whole. 

He wants to run.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebeom sounds softer now but Jinyoung can also hear the dangling of keys, the shuffling. Jaebeom really is going to him. “You want me there? Just say it. I may not be in the group anymore but I’ll always be there for you and the guys. Best friends remember? Don’t shut me out again.”

Jinyoung doesn’t think it’s real. 

It must be delirium. 

A nightmare. A sweet dream.

✶

A fleeting moment. A passing sentiment. A brief thought comes upon Jiknyeo as she is spinning her loom. Transient but nonetheless serious. 

In her despair, in her hopelessness of seeing his beloved Gyeonwoo ever again – after all, a year is infinite when one is yearning – she had the grave thought that perhaps, she is being too greedy. That perhaps she is asking too much. 

Because, ultimately, love in itself is a blessing that not everybody can have in their hands, fickle and fragile and elusive. Having experienced it the moment she caught eyes with Gyeonwoo – that itself is a miracle already. 

And it’s with this that she thinks, perhaps, it is enough to have _just_ their hearts meet, physical bodies left to suffer far apart as long as their souls are intertwined.

She almost convinces herself of it. That as long as she knows Gyeonwoo is hers and that she is Gyeonwoo’s, that as long as their hearts are united forever – perhaps that is enough. If they can’t ever meet in person again, day after day, night after night, as long as they keep each other’s love, then they can be at peace.

Jiknyeo has these thoughts visiting her as she continues to spin the wheel, and sometimes she feels weak enough to accept them as their reality. Maybe if she just takes it as it is, the pain will stop, the hollowness will cease to chill her bones.

And on some days, it really does feel like she can make it, that she can live with it. The longing will be less and she can smile again during those days, can look over the vast starry river that separates her and Gyeonwoo and can wish him well, can see him living a life without her just fine.

During those days, she feels like she’ll be able to survive.

But they don’t last long, those days. Not even a week. 

And no matter how much she fools herself into believing the thought, she still longs for Gyeonwoo’s warm touches, for the sweet kisses and the soft caresses.

And without fail, glistening beads that reflect the shine of the stars in the night sky, tears still fall from her eyes.

✶

Jinyoung leans against the kitchen island, taking swift glances at the clock while he sips his tea.

It’s a free night and he has no plans of going out. Despite it being Halloween, there’s no party he’s invited to. Not that he gets left out, just that Jackson and Mark are out of the country, taking advantage of the rare time their schedules are empty at the same time, and the maknaes have plans with their respective friend groups. So there’s no party for them to be silly in lame costumes and scare themselves over lamer movies. And it’s not like Jiinyoung feels lonely.

The doorbell rings and Jinyoung pushes off the island, places his cup on the cool marble. He’s not lonely.

“You’re late,” he says as he opens the door, side stepping so the intruder can come in and remove his shoes. Jinyoung is strict when it comes to shoe arrangement in his gyeonhwan. He doesn’t like shoes to be haphazardly strewn about. 

Jaebeom toes a socked foot to align his shoes begrudgingly after receiving a pointed stare. “Chill, my shoes aren’t going to make a hole on your floor. Stop glaring at them,” Jaebeom grins and pushes inside, “And I may be late but I brought snacks. You’re welcome.”

It’s the first time Jaebeom is in his apartment, and he doesn’t know why but he’s a little nervous. He can’t place where the butterflies in his chest are coming from and it’s annoying – just like Jaebeom.

They’ve come a long way from where they were just three months ago, and it certainly is a different universe from where they were _two years_ ago. Jinyoung isn’t as suspicious of Jaebeom anymore, but it’s probably because the guy just keeps on hanging around him and invading his personal space. 

Of course there are still arguments, bloody fights and vicious words thrown about that during those times, during those blow outs, Jinyoung thinks of dumping Jaebeom over the bridge again and turning the wooden planks to smoke and ashes.

But there are also times where Jinyoung looks at Jaebeom under the stark white lighting of a new restaurant they’re trying, and instead of finding Jaebeom ugly and stupid, the glow casts weird shadows that fogs Jinyoung’s mind because during those times, he sees his best friend. The version of the guy who he thought hung the stars in the sky and made the moon shine silver.

It jolts Jinyoung whenever those times happen and he will rub his eyes to make the filter disappear. It’s annoying. Jaebeom is annoying.

“You’re drinking chamomile tea?” Jaebeom says as he takes various snacks out of the plastic bag he brought. There’s mint chocolate chip and vanilla ice cream, and annoyingly, the butterflies flutter harder, wings making a whirlwind in Jinyoung’s chest. “Don’t tell me you were too scared for tonight that you had to calm yourself down?”

He rolls his eyes. See? Annoying. “As if I’d be. It’s more like I’m dreading your presence in my house so much that I had to find a way to relax.”

Jaebeom shrugs and takes the mint chocolate chip tub, “Nice flat, by the way. Good distance from the company and from the stores too. Plus, there’s a conbini downstairs. You live far from the others?”

Jinyoung puts the vanilla ice cream in the fridge and grabs a bag of potato chips. They pad to the living room, Jinyoung plops on the couch and Jaebeom starts browsing the horror DVDs he forced Jinyoung to rent the day before. “Yugyeom is just five minutes away. Bambam and Youngjae, ten. Mark is two floors above. Jackson is farther since he wanted a quieter district but he’s frequently hanging out at Mark’s anyways so...yeah.”

Jaebeom nods, selects a movie with a gory cover and feeds it to Jinyoung’s player. “That’s nice. You can see each other easily.”

The movie opens with a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. An unsuspecting family with their cute pet dog. There’s a beat up truck that looks like it will collapse any minute the wind blows at it. 

Jinyoung already knows the movie is going to be lame.

“Yeah, like we don’t see each other all the time,” he says sarcastically.

“Well, it’s still nice,” Jaebeom says, sticking a spoonful of the toothpaste tasting dessert in his mouth. “My place is an hour away. You can crash there when you’re in the area late filming or whatever. I’ll send you the address.”

Jinyoung frowns. No one’s said anything about him visiting Jaebeom’s home, much less sleeping over. But there’s already a ping coming from his phone and before he can tell Jaebeom to stop being so pushy, there’s a scream from one of the little girls in the movie when she found her dog mutilated _and_ on her bed. And really, it’s gross and horrible and completely takes Jinyoung by surprise – he was distracted from prospects of staying over at Jaebeom’s home, he can’t be faulted, okay – so much so that he squeaks and jumps a little.

Jaebeom laughs at him, spoon dangerously close to hitting Jinyoung in the face from how much Jaebeom’s hand is flailing. “I knew it! You’re still scared of horror movies!”

Jinyoung glares at Jaebeom because he’s _not_ scared. He’s just caught off guard. “I’m not! It’s a stupid movie and you’re stupid.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Jaebeom grins like a cat, “You’re _so_ scared. It’s alright, though, Jinyoungie. You can hide behind me. I’ll shield you from dead dogs.”

That does it. Jinyoung is determined to throw the bag of potato chips in his hand at Jaebeom and make a mess of his couch and carpet. Who cares, Jaebeom deserves it for being awful company.

Only he doesn't.

Because – because Jaebeom is still laughing, in that carefree way that makes Jinyoung remember childhood sleepovers and movie nights in the dark, guffawing hard, mouth widely open and eyes squinting until they disappear. And the glow of the television is painting Jaebeom’s features, creating shadows that play with the broad forehead and sharp cheekbones and strong jaw – and Jinyoung forgets about potato chips and dead dogs.

The stupid butterflies wreak havoc, stirring up more than just a whirlwind. No, it’s more violent than that.

Jinyoung feels a storm coming.

Jaebeom’s laugh dies down, shoulders shaking just the tiniest bit as he tries to regain composure. He looks at Jinyoung and there’s something he sees, Jinyoung knows, because suddenly, there’s worry creeping into his dark, dark eyes. “Wait. Are you really scared of the dog? You’re pale as shit. _Shit_.”

Jinyoung blinks. Just blinks. The butterflies aren’t settling, still rampaging.

“I was just joking! Oh god,” Jaebeom starts to take Jinyoung’s stunned expression seriously, “We can change movies. I’m not into gore all that much anyways. And who says Halloween is all about scary stuff? Look, we can watch something fun, child friendly and not at all _scary_. We can even not watch anything, if that’s what you like. Yeah, just eat snacks and play video games– Jinyoung? Oh god, are you okay? What have I done?”

Jaebeom is panicking now, looks around for anything that can help, sees none, thinks of a solution, and then there’s this hot determination in his eyes, taking place and shoving aside the panic and worry.

A beat passes – then Jinyoung is being engulfed in Jaebeom’s arms, a hand rubbing soothingly at his back, another hand pushing his head to bury on the crook of Jaebeom’s neck.

“It’s just a movie, Jinyoung. You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here.”

It snaps Jinyoung back to the present like a rubber band. He pushes Jaebeom away like he’s been burned, heart pounding fast and loud like it’s part of a marching band. _What the heck?_

Jinyoung gathers his wits, focusing on everything in the room and not on the butterflies, _fuck the butterflies_. The movie looks very interesting now that he has needed a distraction.

“Jinyoung, we can change—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” He groans, shoves Jaebeom away some more. Space. They need more space between them than these few centimeters. “I’m not scared of the movie!”

Jaebeom eyes him like he has gone mad. “You can’t fool me! You were lost in your head for a hot minute there. I know you’re scared!”

“Stop,” Jinyoung raises a palm, “I’m _not_ afraid of the damned movie and you don’t know me. Not anymore.”

Silence. Jinyoung holds his breath, waits for the lighting to strike.

“Geez, Jinyoung, you don’t have to be so embarrassed. It’s not like I didn’t know horror movies spook you.”

And that’s...that’s not lighting. Not at all. Not even a faint whisper of atoms buzzing with dangerous energy. 

“Fine, act tough,” Jaebeom goes back to spooning the disgusting ice cream into his mouth, “Just don’t cry when somebody else dies and it’s not a dog because I won’t take pity on you again.”

“What—”

“I’ll gloat. You know me, I'll totally gloat and say _I told you so_.”

Jinyoung couldn’t care less about the plot of the stupid movie. Everyone and their dogs can die. 

That is not the thing scaring him. No, this thing...this _whatever_ is so much scarier than the kid and her stupid dog. 

“You’re so—,” he groans again, “God, you’re so annoying!”

And this time, he _does_ dump the bag of potato chips on Jaebeom.

✶

It is with scolding and berating himself that Jinyoung sits stiffly while Jaebeom swivels on a chair, head thrown back, eyes closed. Gentle notes that send tingling along Jinyoung’s spine suspends in the air between them. 

Outside, it starts snowing. 

Jinyoung doesn’t know how or why he has let this happen, but he’s here now. In Jaebeom’s studio. On Christmas Day. 

There is a supply of hot coffee, courtesy of Jaebeom’s humble coffee maker, and a platter of roasted chicken. There is even a cake, chocolate and with sugar flowers that tempt Jinyoung. 

It’s confusing. 

“Why am I here?” He asks. 

Jaebeom still swivels in his chair, both legs folded and tucked under him. It’s very unstable. One slight shove and he will topple over, maybe, brain himself on the table corner and Jinyoung will have to call for emergency. 

He hopes he doesn’t have to call for a life line tonight. For Jaebeom, for him...for anything. 

“Because your family is in the province with your sick grandma and you had a shoot this morning and you have a schedule at the company tomorrow. You can’t afford going with them.”

Jinyoung wonders since when Jaebeom had his timetable memorized.

“And the others are busy with their families and you don’t want to impose.” Jaebeom unfolds his legs and sit-walks to the table, he has always been lazy that way, rolling on his chair all over the place instead of using his legs properly like a grown adult, and takes a chicken leg. “Plus, I’m here all alone and as my best friend, you’re obliged to accompany me at this time of the year.”

Jinyoung can’t argue with that. Jaebeom has called him earlier and told him to get his ass in the studio. _Jaebeom’s studio._ And like a curious cat, he went and agreed. 

He wanted to see Jaebeom’s cave, the place where he turns ideas to beats, where his fingers make magic and his voice produces the sweetest melodies. 

He wanted to see the place Jaebeom had chosen before GOT7. The place he had left him for. 

But seeing nothing special, he wonders why he expected something to have changed. Jaebeom has always been simple. 

He sighs and takes his cup of black liquid. “Why are you here anyways? Eommeonim had enough of your face and kicked you out of the family celebration?”

Jaebeom makes a face, “Ha ha, very funny. My mom loves me, okay? She just...well, I gave her tickets to a cruise and told her to spend it with dad.”

“That’s actually very nice of you.” Jinyoung nods, then smirks. “So now you’re slaving away in the studio to distract yourself from the loneliness?”

Jaebeom throws the chicken leg at him. Fortunately, Jinyoung has anticipated it. Jaebeom is a kid, deep inside, and it’s easy to deal with Jaebeom acting like a five year old, so much easier than dealing with adult Jaebeom in twenty different ways, so he manages to dodge just in time. 

“You’re so gross,” he says.

Jaebeom takes another chicken from the plate. “You asked for it. And anyways, I had nothing better to do and music...it’s easier. Music’s always been my go to for anything. You know that.”

That, Jinyoung knows very well. It is one of the things he has always admired Jaebeom for. The passion, the rawness, the way he becomes a different person altogether when it’s about music. Brighter, shinier than any star in the night sky. 

“Yeah,” Jinyoung eyes the computer like it’s the most interesting thing in the room, “Can I hear?”

“Huh?”

Jinyoung swallows and musters up the courage. He is ready for this. “Your music. Can I hear?”

And Jinyoung knows, right then, that he did the right thing, that this is the first time he’s initiated, that he’s taken the first step. It’s like he has finally grasped the hand Jaebeom has been offering all along, and now they’re crossing another wall, another boundary, stretching their limit. 

He knows he’s done right because Jaebeom is now looking at him like he is some sort of a holiday gift – like he is his own Christmas miracle. 

Jinyoung looks away, can’t take any more staring from Jaebeom’s warm eyes. And really, why is Jaebeom smiling like that? He hasn’t done anything phenomenal. Can Jaebeom stop being so embarrassing?

“Oh my goodness, stop grinning like an idiot and just play your song!” 

“Oh, I’ll do better,” Jaebeom continues to grin, hits a button, and then the speakers are oozing the laziest, stickiest, dirtiest beats. “I’ll sing to you. Just like the good ol’ days.”

_Then_ Jaebeom starts singing to the beat, adding his rhythm and making everything so much worse, voices slick and glides over Jinyoung’s skin, assaulting his senses. 

_Then_ Jinyoung almost chokes on his coffee, cursing the hot liquid for being, well—too hot.

Something about the night and scents and sweat and passion and heat and, oh _god_. 

“Stop!” Jinyoung holds his hand out. “Is this what you’ve been doing all this time?”

Jaebeom looks triumphant. “I’m good, aren’t I?”

“G-good?” Jinyoung takes a second. “It’s scandalous! I can’t believe you left to make songs about...about this! What’s this even about? _I’ll make you flounder with my own scent?_ ”

Jaebeom has the gall to raise a brow, “What do you think it’s about? I think it’s about riding bicycles on a sweet date.”

“Ride a bike?” Jinyoung repeats. “Ride a bike? _Jesus_ , Jaebeom, you’re crazy.”

“I may be but,” Jaebeom takes a chicken leg and shoves it in Jinyoung’s face, “You’re here with me on Christmas Day so maybe you’re crazy too.”

“You are exasperating,” Jinyoung hisses and snatches the chicken, biting a good portion and chewing brutally like the poor fowl did him wrong when it was still alive. 

“I made a choreography to this too. Want to see?”

He makes a face. He doesn’t want to spend Christmas at a hospital for choking on chicken bones. “I _don’t_ want to see. But for real, are all your songs like this?”

“Of course, not. This is just something I wrote when I first got out of the company. You know, make something I couldn’t do when I was still in the group. Something that will make the bosses pop a vein.” Jaebeom shrugs. “It’s nothing serious. I haven’t even released it. The stuff I _do_ release are more family friendly,”

Jinyoung eyes him for lies but all he sees is Jaebeom’s childish grin and okay, maybe he needs to give Jaebeom more credit. He couldn’t have left them just because he was too horny. Right. More credit. 

“Then play those family friendly songs.”

And this time, Jaebeom’s voice floats from the speakers like a caress, warm and envelopes Jinyoung in a hug. It’s smooth, it’s familiar. A smile makes way on his lips. 

“You like?”

Jinyoung nods. He more than likes it. “This is more acceptable. I like it.”

Jaebeom beams as if Jinyoung presented the cure to cancer and ended world hunger. 

Jaebeom beams as if he’s been waiting for Jinyoung’s approval all along. 

And it’s silly. Really, really silly because it’s supposed to be the other way around. 

Jinyoung knows he should be honest with this too.

“Actually, I like it a _lot_. It shows your vocals very well. Simple but hits right where it’s supposed to hit. Impressive but, then again, I’ve always found you impressive, Jaebeom. I’m just relieved that didn’t change.”

And now Jaebeom is looking at him like he grew another head. Jinyoung supposes it’s a natural reaction. Even _he_ is kind of feeling fluttery, floaty, as if it’s someone else speaking these things coming out of his mouth. 

He has been antagonizing Jaebeom for so long, holding a grudge. And even when they started getting back on the track to friends forever, it still wasn’t the same; there was still the undercurrent of wariness Jinyoung had and knew that Jaebeom feels it too. Of course, it’s odd that he’s being so open now. 

But, well, Jaebeom’s voice always did make Jinyoung do things. Uncomfortable or not. 

He just needs to make sure of one thing before he really, fully, crosses this bridge between them. 

“Are you happy?” Jinyoung fiddles with the chicken bone. He should’ve tossed it and grabbed another chicken piece before deciding to run his mouth. It would be less lame. But he has already said it, he can’t stop. “Are you happy right now? Doing your own thing?”

A breathy exhale. “Yes.”

“Have you—were you able to stay true to yourself doing all these? Be the version of Lim Jaebeom that’s not for anyone else? Do you...did you not lose yourself in the process? Like you feared GOT7 was doing to you?”

“Yes.”

Okay. Alright. Jinyoung can deal with that. Actually, he’s more than okay with that. A heavy weight, a load he isn’t aware sitting on his shoulders, disappears.

Weirdly enough, it doesn’t hurt the way Jinyoung has imagined it to. He’s been thinking a lot, two years ago, three months ago, a week ago – he’s been thinking a lot. He has created these scenarios in his head where Jaebeom admits to being happy without them, and every scene has his chest constricting and an ugly feeling peeking from the depths of him. Something like resentment. Something like Jaebeom has no right to feel happy after abandoning them. 

But now – he doesn’t feel all those at all. What’s more important is that there are sparks and tiny fireworks setting off before his eyes, making his fingertips tingle and his legs buzz with static. He feels relieved and energized. Grateful, even. 

_Aah, so it was all worth it. After all._

Maybe it’s because of the soft snow falling on the streets. Maybe it’s because of the bright neon lights decorating every inch of Seoul. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, the way it’s so warm here with Jaebeom like this despite the freezing temperatures outside that Jinyoung takes the next step. 

“I’m happy you’re back.”

Jaebeom stills. Jinyoung continues. 

“Thank you for coming back to us, _hyung_.” And the word should sound unfamiliar after all this time, but Jinyoung’s lips curl and his tongue sweeps over the word so easily, so smooth, an echo of the now still and calm waters beneath their bridge. 

He’s crossed it now, meeting Jaebeom in the middle, finally grasping his hyung’s hand tightly again. Jinyoung thinks he won’t let go this time. Won’t try to. 

“Thank you for never giving up even when I was so horrible to you. Thank you for coming back to me, hyung.”

Jaebeom makes an incoherent sound, ducks his head, whirls around, stares at the window, gaze locked on the flurries of snow – face furiously red that is definitely not because of the heating in the room. 

“But Jinyoungie,” Jaebeom mutters, “I told you, I never meant to leave you.”

Maybe it’s Jaebeom’s soothing singing voice and the warmth radiating from him, melting Jinyoung’s residual hard edges. Maybe they’re really just bound to fix things and restore the balance of the universe.

Because, for a long time, they’ve been mirrors, reflecting each other, and the balance they make – it’s a necessity to the natural order of things. 

Jinyoung feels himself settling back to his axis, spinning the way he did before, traipsing in his orbit without a hitch now, Jaebeom’s gravity helping him stay on course. 

“Merry Christmas, Jinyoungie.”

“Merry Christmas, hyung.”

✶

Jinyoung is with his family for the New Year’s. They’ve gone to a temple, gave thanks for the year and wished for a bountiful new one.

Jinyoung’s sisters tease him about being in a shrine, remembering that one time he accepted a role for a monk for a short web drama. 

Jinyoung, thankfully, didn’t have to shave his head then, but the image, sanctified and venerated, has stuck with him for some time, and even now that it’s been so long, his sisters are being pests about it and putting bowls upon bowls over his head and drapes him with banal fabrics.

Jinyoung doesn’t mind, though. He has missed his family. 

He savors the homeliness of seeing everyone around gather and entertain themselves with all sorts of merriment and food. His nieces started playing with sparklers and he’s interested to join. Maybe later. It’s been quite a while since he’s spent quality time with them too; he thinks they’ve grown too much during the gap. He needs to reconfirm his spot as favorite uncle.

“It’s nice that you can be with us,” Jinyoung’s mom says, hands Jinyoung a steaming cup of tea, “I’m sorry for Christmas.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “I should be the one apologizing. I was too busy, I couldn’t come with everyone to see grandma.”

“Yeah, she misses you terribly.” Mrs. Park nods and sits beside Jinyoung. “So, how was your Christmas? You didn’t tell me anything. Don’t tell me you spent it alone in your apartment? And don’t you dare make up lies because I will call each of your members for confirmation.”

“Woah, slow down, mom,” Jinyoung laughs, “You don’t have to always be on my case about not having enough friends.”

“I just worry for you. I don’t want you to be lonely.”

Jinyoung turns his cup, blows at the hot liquid. “I was with someone on Christmas Eve. And on the day itself.”

“Oh!” The surprise was very evident. Jinyoung can hear the grin in his mother’s tone and he refuses to look at her. “I actually called your members on Christmas so I know you weren’t with them. Is this person someone I know?”

Jinyoung sighs. Trust her mom to be excited over his social life. “You know him plenty already. Any more knowing and he’ll be your son.”

“Oh! Mind telling me who this gentleman is?”

Jinyoung turns to his mom and makes a face like a sulky child. “Gentleman? Really?”

“Well, if he was so kind as to spend Christmas with you, then he’s a nice gentleman. So who is it? I’ll make sure to send him a gift for being so kind to my son.”

“It’s Jaebeom.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Just—don’t say anything,” Jinyoung quickly follows up, “Don’t send him anything too.”

“I didn’t know you were back to being friends!” Jinyoung’s mom sounds amazed, like she’s witnessing a miracle. Jinyoung doesn’t voice out loud that she is. “I didn’t even know you were back to talking! Way to keep things from me.” She smacks Jinyoung lightly on the shoulder. “So you’ve made up with him?”

Jinyoung smiles. Her mom’s excitement is contagious. “You could say that.”

And this time, she squeals loudly, hugs Jinyoung so suddenly that his cup of tea almost spills. “I’m so happy to hear that! Ah, I knew you couldn’t keep on fighting. You both love each other so much.”

Jinyoung stills for a second, but melts when his mom just keeps on being so _happy_.

“Now, I can call Beommie again! Maybe I’ll take him out to eat and tell him his songs are magnificent and just how handsome he’s grown!”

“Mom, it’s just been two years! He hasn’t _grown_ or anything. He’s still the same guy.” And perhaps that is the most important part Jinyoung has realized and is severely grateful for. That Jaebeom hasn’t changed. 

He’s been so blind. He’s made up and believed awful versions of Jaebeom because he had been so, so blind.

“Wait, wait, mom. You listen to his songs?”

“Of course! He’s a good singer, son.” Mrs. Park wiggles her eyebrows. “Maybe even better than you.”

“Ugh,” Jinyoung groans, “I knew it! You’ve always liked him better than me!”

Mrs. Park just grins and, really, she’s so happy – the happiest Jinyoung has seen in years, beaming widely and eyes twinkling. Jinyoung can’t stop feeling glad too.

He and Jaebeom, they’ve hurt the people around them too.

“I’m just really happy you’re back together with Jaebeom.”

Jinyoung trips on air again. 

“We’re not like that, mom,” he mumbles, “But I’m glad how everything’s turned out too.”

And it lingers even when the conversation is long finished, even when Jinyoung is crouching down with his nieces, playing with the sparklers, fascinated by the multiple colors and the bright burn, inhaling sulfur and nitrates, even when he’s drowning in laughter and family.

It lingers until the night gives way to the day.

_You both love each other so much._

✶

In the darkness of the universe, Jiknyeo shines brightly, so bright that even across the celestial river, she can be seen.

She shines with unparalleled brilliance of dazzling white and blue so she can be spotted by Gyeonwoo even if there are no magpies bridging them.

Even if they’re apart and Jiknyeo can’t see and feel Gyeonwoo, she’s at peace that he can see her if he looks across the Milky Way.

So she shines brighter everyday. Her radiance is a reminder for Gyeonwoo that his love exists far across the distance.

✶

Jinyoung just finished swapping the CD in his player for a new one when his phone rings.

“Why?” He answers.

“Is that any way to answer your phone, mister?”

Jinyoung sits on the couch, folds one leg under him and leans back. “What do you want, hyung?”

“Fine, I’ll forgive you for being a brat just because I still enjoy you calling me hyung again,” Jaebeom snickers, “I just called because—wait, is that my song?”

Jinyoung feels heat creeping up, feels prickling on his nape. After learning that his mother kept updated on Jaebeom’s music, he felt that he should too. He stayed away from anything related to Jaebeom when he left, and that time in the studio was the only time he had been able to hear the other’s solo music. So in a whim while he was passing a music store, before he chickens out and regrets, he went in and bought all of Jaebeom’s albums and singles.

It’s the first time he’s really paying attention to Jaebeom’s solo stuff, and all he feels so far, all that he can say so far is that he’s really, really proud of him. Immensely. 

And maybe, being in GOT7 had really been holding Jaebeom back.

He can think of these things now without going red with rage and black with bitterness and betrayal. Jinyoung feels proud of himself too.

“That’s totally my song, Jinyoung. What’s going on?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, forces the flutters away. “Don’t be so dramatic, hyung. I’m just catching up on the stuff I've missed. Just be thankful I helped you with the sales.”

“You’re such a brat.”

“Tell me something new.” Jinyoung frowns a little when the next song rolls in. It’s definitely toeing the lines of family friendly and explicit. Jaebeom is such a sly bastard. “Anyways, why are you bothering me?”

“Ah! It’s because a package arrived today and guess who it’s from?” Jaebeom pauses for theatrical effect, “It’s from your mom, Jinyoungie!”

Jinyoung sits straighter. He told his mom not to do anything, for goodness’ sake!

“What did she send you?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Jaebeom teases, “All of GOT7’s albums since I left. Magazines featuring the group and you. Your drama DVDs...and, oh god, you’re going to love this—your posters! I think she sent these so I won’t forget you even if we fight again. I wonder if I should hang them on my wall so I can always see you. What do you think?”

Jinyoung is positively burning. He feels so hot with embarrassment and he wishes for the couch to eat him whole and never spit him back out. How can his mother do this to him?

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses, “Don’t you dare!”

“But, Jinyoungie, you look so handsome in these! It’s a lot too. Enough to cover an entire wall! Do you think I should put them in my bedroom or in the living room?”

Jinyoung never hung up so quickly than he did just now. Jaebeom can go to hell.

✶

There had been a time when Jaebeom’s phone wallpaper was Jinyoung.

There had been a time when Jinyoung’s phone wallpaper was Jaebeom.

There had been a time where beside Jinyoung’s bed stood a frame of him and Jaebeom, too young, too innocent of the ways of the world and how the industry works. Just them, arm in arm, impossibly close, and smiling like everything will be alright and nothing can keep them apart.

(Jinyoung takes the familiar picture out of the box under his bed and puts it back in its rightful place. On his bedside table. Jinyoung needs reminding of the beautiful moments from time to time. He won’t, doesn’t want to, forget.)

✶

Jinyoung is scared. It’s all going too fast.

Jaebeom informed him that he’s excited to see Jinyoung’s movie. Jinyoung had been nervous because of all the things Jaebeom can do, he shouldn’t do _this_. Not this specific movie where Jinyoung had laid it bare, had been so transparent. Jinyoung has no doubts that Jaebeom will be able to _see_ through Hyunjae, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to be that vulnerable in front of Jaebeom.

It had been four hours ago since the message; four hours that Jinyoung had spent worrying, cleaning and rearranging his apartment in anxiety, not knowing how Jaebeom would take it.

It had been four hours and now Jaebeom is at his doorstep wearing an expression Jinyoung can’t read. _No, no, no, not again._

“Jinyoung,” Jaebeom runs a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s run a marathon. Jinyoung feels like it too.

“Come in,” he says for the sake of saying something. Jinyoung can’t have silence suffocating them again. “Let’s talk inside.”

Jaebeom nods, walks in, avoids brushing against Jinyoung on the way. It stings. God, it _stings_.

“So.”

“Yeah.”

Jinyoung fiddles with his finger. Jaebeom looks troubled.

“Why are you here, hyung?”

Jaebeom looks up, meets his eyes, and it’s there – Jinyoung can see it. There’s a myriad of emotions swirling behind Jaebeom’s black pools and it’s like they’re back to square one. He feels helpless.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebeom chokes out. He sounds so pained, a lump forms in Jinyoung’s throat. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jinyoung.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Jinyoung hates that it came out wobbly. Why is this so damned difficult? “It’s just a movie, hyung. It’s not like it's the truth,” he lies, “You don’t have to feel sorry.”

As expected, Jaebeom doesn’t believe him.

“Why do you keep lying?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” Lies. More lies. Nothing’s new. Jinyoung’s been a master of saying things he doesn’t mean. “You know it’s just acting.”

“Stop it,” Jaebeom growls, “Stop that. Don’t, _fuck_ , don’t lie to me and to yourself.”

There’s the burning sensation again, the kind that’s not brought about by the butterflies. The kind that always rises to the surface, creating steam that fogs Jinyoung’s vision, whenever it’s about Jaebeom, making his blood simmer with the faint taste of aggression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jaebeom,” he says flatly, “And _you_ stop this. Not everything is about you, you know?”

Jaebeom glares at him, stands and takes a step forward, menacing and intimidating. Jaebeom is getting mad too.

They’ve always been two halves of a whole.

“Stop,” Jaebeom takes a step forward, Jinyoung backs away. “Fucking,” another step forward, another step backward. “Lying,” Jaebeom corners Jinyoung. “To me,” Jaebeom pins him to the wall.

Jinyoung scowls at Jaebeom in defiance. He doesn’t know what they’re doing, why _he’s_ doing this, but Jinyoung can’t just back down. He can’t just lose.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats like a broken record, “And get off me!”

“I know you weren’t acting, Jinyoung. That was you in the movie,” Jaebeom spits, “That was you. Hyunjae _is_ you.”

Jinyoung remains quiet.

“And, shit, you were so miserable, Jinyoung. You were hurting so much!”

Jinyoung knows that better than anyone else. He doesn’t need anyone rubbing it on his face. “And who do you think the cause of it was? It’s you, stupid jerk!”

“I know!” Jaebeom retorts, “I know it’s me. Fuck, Jinyoung, stop being in so denial and just admit to yourself. Admit it to me.”

This time, Jinyoung is really rendered silent. This again? Denial? Over what? He doesn’t get it.

“Think. Think about it hard, that’s what you always do anyways,” Jaebeom says, “Think about why it took you so long to forgive me. Think about why you dropped me like fucking hot potato and tried to forget everything. Think, Jinyoung, think about why you felt so betrayed when I left the group.”

Jackson’s words come back to him, suckerpunches him in the gut.

_It’s because, Jinyoung, whatever he does cuts you twice as deep._

And Jinyoung is scared. It’s all going too fast. Jaebeom is altering his gravity again, forcing him to spin out of control.

“Use that brain, Jinyoung.” Jaebeom sounds softer now, gentler, as is his hold on his wrists, eases off with the pressure driving him to the wall. “Think about what it all means.”

“I—”

“Stop rationalizing,” Jaebeom scolds.

“You told me to think!”

“Yes, but don’t make excuses. Please,” Jaebeom takes a deep breath—then, “Please, don’t make excuses to deny that you love me too, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung stops. He stops spinning altogether, suspended in his orbit, stuck frozen in place. Time stops too. Everything just halts – everything except Jaebeom and his stupid face, so close to his, so, so close that he can smell stars and asteroids and earth and grass and _Jesus Christ, this cannot be happening_.

“W-what?”

“Yes, Jinyoungie, I love you.”

Jaebeom smiles, coaxes, draws him in.

“And I think you love me too.”

Then everything starts moving again, so fast, so quick, taking Jinyoung by force, and how is it that he was rigid one moment and now he’s careening across the universe at the speed of light?

Insane, insane, insane. It gives Jinyoung whiplash and he thinks he will burst. _What the actual fuck_.

“Do you know why I left?”

Jinyoung is still flying, but he needs to know. “You said it’s because you were losing yourself.”

“Yes,” Jaebeom nods, “And you know why? I told you that it’s because I can’t be who I am, but what I haven’t told you, not in clear, precise words, anyways, is that I can’t be myself who is allowed to love you freely. That’s why I left.”

Jinyoung can’t believe this. It’s impossible.

“So do you now understand why I had been so _hurt_ when you stopped talking to me? And why I’m so adamant in fixing us? It’s because I still love you even when you were being heartless, and if I can’t have you romantically, then I’ll settle with being friends.”

Jaebeom laughs sardonically and it sounds like sharp nails scratching pavement. It hurts Jinyoung. It hurts because Jaebeom doesn’t have to be ironic about this at all. Not at all when Jinyoung...when Jinyoung— _god_ , what does he want?

“Friends, yeah, right. It was going okay, Jinyoung, but your movie...your fucking movie made me realize that we were both suffering for nothing! There wasn’t any point to all of this shit we made ourselves go through. I love you, Jinyoung, and I know you love me too.”

Silence. Jinyoung is still careening like a meteor, burning too hot. 

Jaebeom shakes him hard.

“Come on, say something!”

Jinyoung finds how to use his tongue again. It feels unfamiliar. But the feeling consuming him – it’s not. It’s the same butterflies, the same black hole devouring him.

It’s still Jaebeom and how he feels around Jaebeom and it’s so, so, _so_ familiar.

“What do you want me to say?” he manages.

“Anything,” Jaebeom glares, “You can’t just shove my confession away and pretend nothing happened.”

“Christ! You are so annoying, Lim Jaebeom.” He glares back. “Let me just process this.”

“You’re just going to deny everything again and I don’t think I can go back to being just friends this time, Jinyoung. Not after saying all these things to you.”

“Who said about being friends again?” Jinyoung slumps forward, places his head on Jaebeom’s shoulder in defeat. 

And it clicks into place. He’s back home. 

“You’re the one obsessed with going back to the past and becoming friends again.”

“Are you saying that…”

“Yes, Jaebeom,” he mumbles into Jaebeom’s neck, “Yes, but please shut up. Don’t say anything that will make me regret this.”

Jinyoung feels a pair of arms snaking around his waist, drawing him closer. 

Jinyoung knows that when two stars collide at extreme pace, they destroy each other, smashing into tiny pieces that make up the debris in space. Dust and dead boulders floating around. Nothing but hydrogen gas to remind of the high impact collision.

But Jinyoung also knows that when it’s slow, when the timing is right, when two stars collide at a gentler speed, they merge together to create a brighter, bigger star. A united heavenly body that shines and glows hotter than their former selves.

Jinyoung thinks that Jaebeom and he – maybe they are stars in a collision. And the time they spent apart is necessary to slow them down. Maybe this is the right timing. Maybe the hurt had been their buffer, a blessing in fucking disguise that saved them from obliterating each other.

Maybe the universe just really works in a way no one understands.

He returns Jaebeom’s embrace.

✶

Through the varying shapes of the delicate clouds,

the sad message of the shooting stars,

a silent journey across the Milky Way.

One meeting of the Cowherd and Weaver amidst the golden autumn wind and jade-glistening dew,

eclipses the countless meetings in the mundane world.

The feelings soft as water,

the ecstatic moment unreal as a dream,

how can one have the heart to go back on the bridge made of magpies?

If the two hearts are united forever,

why do the two persons need to stay together—day after day, night after night?

✶

Time flies when there’s nothing to worry about.

GOT7 is doing well. They’ll be having a world tour soon. Jinyoung is excited. He can’t wait to meet the fans all over the world again.

Jaebeom just finished promoting his latest album, and he’s excited too because having a successful end to a comeback means he can tag along Jinyoung and the others for the first stops of the tour. Until work picks up again.

It’s been six months since they got together, and a whole year since they’ve met at Yugyeom’s party.

A lot has happened, but now they’ve learned how to cross the bridge and meet in the middle.

“It’s not raining,” Jaebeom sidles beside him on the veranda, looking at the clear, blue skies. “They’ll meet this year, for sure.”

Jinyoung moves closer to Jaebeom, lets the other put an arm around his waist. The summer breeze is warm against his face, but he doesn't care. Jaebeom’s warmth is so much better.

“Who will meet who?”

“Jiknyeo and Gyeonwoo,” Jaebeom says, turning his head to drop a kiss on Jinyoung’s hair. “There’s no rain so the magpies can come out. Jiknyeo and Gyeonwoo will be able to meet this year. It’s nice.”

Jinyoung smiles.

It’s more than nice.

(Across the distance where heaven and earth meet, a flock of magpies watch over them, their long wings reflecting the blue and purple and green iridescence of the universe, singing in soft and gentle notes about a love that transcends time and space.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this huge word vomit!!!
> 
> i got the poem ["Meeting Across the Milky Way"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cowherd_and_the_Weaver_Girl#:~:text=The%20tale%20of%20the%20cowherd,\(symbolizing%20the%20Milky%20Way\).) off wikipedia. if you just want to check it  
> and fun fact! i learned that the Oriental Magpie is Korea's bird symbol. and the fact that Chilseok really does fall on the 7th day of the 7th month (lunar or not) - what a coincidence! 
> 
> so that's it! i hope you liked it :))  
> scream at me! im a sucker for feedbacks.


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